We are moving in a week. One week.
And tomorrow we are having one of our cats euthanized.
Fun times, right? Sammy has been on a slow decline for a while now. She paces, and poops on the floor, and isn't as friendly as she used to be. We have taken her to vet after vet and there's nothing we can do for her. For the past few days, she's been on a benzo and while it's made her loopy and she falls into her own poop, she is like a kitten again. Seeing her so happy and mellow just emphasizes the point: It is time to let her go.
That doesn't make the decision any easier, even though I've felt in my heart for a while now that this would be the end result.
We have talked about it, and cried, and talked some more, and cried some more, and Sid agrees with me 100%. Everyone I've talked to agrees, this is the best choice we can make. And that doesn't make me feel any better about it at all.
So I have made the tearful call to the vet, and scheduled the death of a beloved family member. And tomorrow, I will go with her - Sid can't bear the thought of being there - and watch her die. I will hold her as she takes her last breath. It is the very least I can do for the little black cat who has stuck by me for 14 years.