My cat, Kitty, died yesterday. She was 13 years and 3 months... and I had her for all of that, except the first 6 weeks.
Actually, I had to put her to sleep.
I am sad. Torn up...
I feel like I need to hug a pillow or something.
Kitty developed a severe kidney disease. The vet did not tell me the cause; however, from online research I had been doing the prior week, I learned that a dry-only food diet is harmful to the kidney's.
That is what she had, basically, an all dry diet. That may have been the source.
Kitty was a big ball of fur and I didn't notice her weight loss at first. It would not have done any good if I had noticed, but the decline was semi gradual for a month or two. The loss was only noticeable to me for about a week.
When I thought I saw a decrease in eating and drinking, I thought she was showing her being upset with me.
Fuck! I am angry at something I had no control over... and very sad.
I am a 41 year old healthy guy with a beautiful girlfriend that I do not deserve, and I am so so sad.
My girlfriend deserves a lot of credit for being available. While I helped manage a major event, my girlfriend took charge to find a vet, make an appointment, take Kitty to the vet, and wait, and wait, and provide updates to me via phone calls. She was a champion.
I showed up... to get the final news, make the decision, visit with Kitty, and be there for the event.
I felt weak. I still feel weak. Emotionally drained.
In time, I'll be better. And if there is a kittie after-life or what-ever, she's definately there. She was a good cat. She was always near me. Sleeping by my feet, coming to me when I got home.