Its Time

Tomorrow is going to be an especially hard day in my household. We're going to be taking Boy to the vet to put him to sleep. He's has cancer in his face and has been slowly deteriorating for a while now. We have been putting this off, waiting until the last minute, trusting that he would say that the time has come and that he was ready. I don't truly believe that he is saying that as yet, but that could just be because I am in denial.

His face is swollen and distorted, there is a bald patch on his nose where it has swollen, when he opens his mouth you can smell the decay on his breath, his breathing is laboured as his nostrils are almost completely blocked up, but even with all of that he is not displaying the signs of an animal in pain.

He is eleven, he was born a couple of months after the Spawn and grew up with her and has all this time been our boy. He is the only cat I know who would hear a baby crying and run to see what was wrong. He was dragged by his tail by a toddler in a walker on wheels as she zoomed about the room and never did anything to stop her or complain. He waited until he thought she was old enough to understand before he ever showed any sign of disciplining her for hurting him and that only came as placing his mouth on her arm to give her a small nip, she was about eight.

A more agreeable cat there never was, he would suffer in silence during vet visits, car rides and baths, all the things he hated with a passion. He would sit quietly on the examining table and be poked and prodded without biting, scratching or trying to escape, you could actually leave him on the table and walk off and he would just sit there in his discontent and wait for your return. When he was six months I took him to be neutered, I could not bear the thought of anything happening to him while he was under sedation and asked the vet if I could stay and watch the procedure, which I did and stayed for about an hour at the vet's office afterward waiting for him to regain consciousness before taking him home groggy.

The most annoying habit the SU has in my book is the one habit Boy loves more than anything else in the world. When he (the SU) is sitting, his foot (or feet depending on position) is always in motion, Boy would go and sit by it and let it hit his head, getting himself the most, I think violent patting ever. Even now with his swollen face he still goes there while I sit and look on anxiously hoping that he doesn't move his head and the bump on his nose gets hit and hurt.

When I'm lying or sitting on the couch he comes and stares at me until I move around enough for him to come up beside me and get cuddled. Its most disconcerting to be looking at television and suddenly become aware of the fact that you are being looked at most intently by accusing yellow eyes because you have been so inconsiderate as to take up the entire chair. One of the pictures below shows him doing it. Strangely enough while he likes being next to you, with your arm on top or at the side of him he does not like to be held, although before he lost weight it was a wonderful thing to do as he was so fat and cuddly, like a huge cushion that purred and then struggled to get away, leaving you covered with hair...okay so totally unlike a cushion except in terms of squishiness.

The Spawn is taking it hard and rightly so. For as long as she's known herself there has been Boy. I came home and met her upset with swollen eyes yesterday and was told by the SU that he had told her that the time had come and we were taking him to the vet on Saturday, she went upstairs and had a cry and had only just come back downstairs when I arrived. I am trying to decide whether or not she should go with us to the vet. She is no stranger to death, she was introduced to death quite early on with the death of my mother five years ago and then all sorts of miscellaneous creatures that we've had since then, but I don't know. I guess I will ask her and then respect her wishes from there.