So tonight we had to say goodbye to Moo Kitty. He would have been 11 this year. He’s the first cat that was really mine and John’s, as John already had three cats when we met. Two of them are gone as well, and I fear the last (now 16 . . . maybe 17?) probably won’t make it much longer as he has hyperthyroidism.

Moo was in advanced kidney failure, and try as we might with meds, we couldn’t bring his values up (or down) enough so that he was in the good zone. He’d been on an IV drip for 4 days, but wasn’t improving fast enough. The vet worried because he was no where near the good zone in terms of his values, that taking him off the medicine would make him relapse, and keeping him on it probably wouldn’t do much good either as he was getting better so slowly that he’d back slide once off the IV. When we took him into the vet he was pretty much a slug and barely moving from his bed. Tonight when we went to say goodbye he was more of his old self, which made it even harder. I wanted to scream “he clearly looks and is acting better!” However I knew he was on borrowed time, and I guess I should be thankful he was feeling better when he went to sleep forever and not in the pain he was a few days ago.

I do wish I snuck him a last meal of sinful cat food though.

Now the challenge will to be keeping John away from the shelters and adopting another cat! Every time one dies, we seem to end up with a new one.