My oldest cat, Lucky, died Tuesday

[Alondro]

He'd developed a mouth infection, which we were treating.  But it turned out it was only masking the real problem:  oral squamous carcinoma.  And it doubled in size in a week, even as Lucky became unable to eat or drink and lost a quarter of his body weight in less than two weeks.

As soon as we learned of the real diagnosis on Tuesday, we knew there was nothing that could be done.  He was almost 19 years old, and treating cancer at that age in a cat is pointless.  He had hyperthyroid and likely renal disease.  The treatment would have killed him anyway and only caused him tremendous pain. 

While waiting for my dad to bring my mom to say goodbye, he was looking up at me as I talked to him.  At some point, he seemed to understand... he'd seen many of our previous pets take their final ride, and I think somehow he knew it was his time.  He relaxed and just snuggled up against me, resting his head on my arm.  When my parents arrived, we all pet him and said our goodbyes.  He never moved, and only looked at each one of us one last time.  He didn't struggle or cry out when the needle was put in, only kept eye contact with me until he lost consciousness.

Lucky had been part of the family since April of 2000 when my brother came across him, abandoned at the side of a puddle, a sodden little ball of cold black fur.  Instead of running, Lucky jumped into the car when my brother called to him.  And so he came and lived with us, always friendly and happy, loving everyone including the two dogs we had over his lifetime.  And he grieved when each died, the latest only dying this spring.

Even in his later pain, as his back legs also started to give out, he'd still pull himself up on the couch or up the stairs to stay close to us.  In the last few days, I carried him. 

He'd always been a loyal little friend, always present when we were sick or sad.  He would stay beside whoever was ill, trying to be of comfort in his small way.  He had his own 'language' and so many different sounds he'd communicate with, from things he wanted to simply greetings... which he gave every morning and when I'd get home from work.  And when he wanted to just be with you, he would truly look into your eyes.  Not just a glance, he would gaze deeply with a gentle expression while purring happily.  That same gaze he gave in the last moments of his life, a dear friend to the end.

Now his evening spot on the front stairs is empty.  His favorite napping spots on the couch and the foot of my bed are cold and bare. 

There will never be another cat, another pet at all, like Lucky.  The other two cats we still have are, well, they're just cats.  Pretty much the general personality package of their types, and they barely even notice Lucky's gone. 

Lucky was very special.  We were all 'lucky' to have known him for so long, and the grief is cutting at the swift decline and loss of our dear little member of the family.  It will take quite some time for it to fade. 

[Dishonored]

 Aw, man, I'm sorry for your loss. At least he had a true, caring friend throughout.