We put him down this morning at 11 35. It was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done. I miss him so fucking much. He took a turn for the worse this morning so I called up my mum to come home from work so we could end his suffering as soon as possible. About a year ago, because of his failing heart, a blood clot paralyzed his back legs and we were sure that was going to be the end of him. Everywhere I read online it said this was an almost certainly fatal condition for a cat. But nope, he defied the odds he got better and was able to move his legs a bit more every day. It was hard though, he became so restless, meowing all the time and panicking for about 3 nights straight, but he got better. And after a few weeks he was back to his normal playful self.
This morning out of nowhere that same thing happened to him on top of the coughing and shortness of breath and weak muscles. It was too much and i couldn't keep him calm, he was not going to eat or drink. Today had to be the end. As i was struggling to hold him while making a call to the vet right after he bit though my finger, I felt rather complacent about the idea of it. It was too painful to see him like that.
It still hasn't hit me, I just got home and don't know what to do, nothing feels right. The house is dead quiet and for the first time in 19 years I'm completely alone in it. I can't even think straight I want to burst out into tears but knowing he's not around to hear me and knowing he's not anywhere it feels strange. I'm glad he's been put to rest, he deserved to go in a decent way, he deserved everything.
Good bye buddy.