Today did not start out well. Our Ugly Cat had to be put to sleep this morning. He had been going down hill quickly the past two or three weeks. He stopped eating well about a week or ten days ago; we tried changing him to soft food and that worked for a couple of days, but finally this morning we found him sprawled on the floor, unable to stand up. I think we knew it was approaching; he was an old kitty--we'd gotten him and his 'brother' from a shelter about 5 years ago and they were at least middle aged for kitties then. But to find him so wretched was difficult. It was particularly hard on P. Shove was really P's cat.(Shove is his real name, but we lovingly called him "the ugly cat." He looked like he'd been put together by committee.) P wouldn't even let me come to the vet with him.
It was the saddest thing I've ever seen to watch P carry his little body, wrapped in a sheet, to the hole he'd already prepared in the back yard, tears streaming. I'm choking up just writing about it. We'll go pick out something special to plant over him this weekend.
L couldn't quite understand when I told her that Shove wouldn't be here when she got home from school. I made sure to keep it simple, but she's still a little young to understand death. I think she's pretty sure that Jesus is coming to pick him up to have a play date.
Shove, you were a wonderful companion. You were as sweet as you were ugly. We will miss you very much.
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