Teary-eyed I look at him from the stairwell. He looks at me and slowly blinks. He is lately always in his spot by the window, a secure spot, close to the litter box and high from Kitty Loo who tolerates his CKD at a good hiss’s distance.
His favorite kind of toy since he was a kitten, a hair tie, I place next to him early in the day. No interest. But that night I wake to him batting it a few times. A sound that would usually annoy the heck out of me is a comfort. I get up and bat it along with him. Next morning I wake slowly from the couch at 6-ish. We have an appointment at 10.
At 9:30, while I’m on the phone with the vet and getting details, the neighbor cat, Blue, pounces on his position on the window! Boy’s startled, but not alarmed. Blue prances away as Boy looks on calmly. Had Boy been an outdoor cat, they might have become friends; Boy’s been seeing him often outside the window and it’s been nice having Blue around these last few weeks.
With only a few soft meows, the car ride is surprisingly calm. Boy sits comfortably in the carrier. When we arrive, Krista directs us right to the back, past an empty waiting room (thankfully) as I attempt not to make eye contact with any staff or I’d lose it.
The last moments are precious. Dr. Elliot is very kind and understanding: one of his regular vets who also treated him this past weekend. He is comfortable with her. While he’s in my arms watching a bird video, the anaesthetic kicks in, and at 10:40 on March 6, 2019, Kitten Boy (Rosco) leaves us. Although heart-breaking, I couldn’t have asked for a better last day for him.