SpongeBub

Well, after all these months of trying to save little Whitey, I had to throw in the towel today. The boy had stopped eating all together a few days ago but I kept hoping that he would regain his appetite, like he had done several times before, and pull through. But after watching him get weaker all weekend, I could no longer deny the truth.

I scooped his little skinny body up this morning and took him to the vet. He didn't fight me to keep from getting in the cat carrier - maybe he knew where we were going and he was ready. They agreed with me that it was really just cruel to ask him to keep going and so I held him while they gave him first the sedative and then the final shot to stop his heart.

I'm just really in a daze and cannot believe he is gone. From my work desk, I could usually turn around and see him sitting outside snoozing in the sun. But I won't see that again and it hurts like hell to know that. No more waking up with him cuddled beside me, purring his ragged pur, at night. No more looking out at night and seeing him sitting under the streetlight, keeping watch on the cul-de-sac, ready to pounch on any frog who dared show himself.

Thanks, buddy, for sharing the time you did with me and making my life a little brighter.