Sadness

Today, we had to have our cat, Pirate, put down. Complete kidney failure. We could maybe have kept him alive for a little longer (days) but he would have been miserable and us not much better.

It's hard not to feel guilty when something like this happens. Could we have done more? Was the diagnosis correct? And so on. Basically, I've learned to trust this vet. When Tux got sick, we spent a lot of time and effort on second opinions and tests. The result was a very unhappy cat and we still had to have him put down. I decided not to put Pirate through that. The deterioration in his condition over the last couple of days was dramatic enough to indicate that something was seriously wrong. I think I knew when I got home this afternoon that it was bad.

We had Pirate for about 3 years - not counting the 2 or so that he would come and pirate our cats' food - thus earning his name. He was a split personality cat - still occasionally reacting to people as if he were stray and they were out to get him. But he was intelligent and, after we'd brought to appreciate the delights of domestication, a very loving cat.

He:
- loved sitting on your lap
- loved being patted
- ignored all the birds once he realised that food was regularly forthcoming
- hated... actually, I'm not sure he hated anything
- loved ham
- ignored catnip
- liked to try and catch food in his paws
- wouldn't go into a new area of the house unless he was invited
- was just starting to come and meet strangers
- would come and sit with us while we were having breakfast outside
- would always come and stand by me when I put the washing out - because he knew that I'd pat him every time I bent down to pick up another piece.

I'm going to have to stop now. Pirate - you'll be missed