We put our cat, Sylvester, down yesterday. He had congenital heart failure.
Being a cat, Sylvester hid his pain and suffering for what was likely months, which makes me feel just dreadful. The poor guy’s lungs were filled with fluid so he felt like he was drowning.
At around 3 p.m. yesterday, we noticed Sylvester’s breathing was funny and by 6 p.m., he was no longer with us.
While I feel badly that we didn’t have a lot of time cuddling, I think he had a good last day. The night before he had steak for dinner and he spent part of the night cuddling under the covers with me, his chin tucked under mine, purring away. In the morning, my son and I scratched his ears and pet him for a while before our day began. He had a lick of peanut butter and a lick of Cheese Whiz for a snack after his breakfast of soft and hard food. Our son leaped over my legs to get at Sylvester, giving him a big sloppy kiss and a couple of pets, along with some yanking.
Unfortunately, I did sit on Sylvester in order to get his flea medication on, but he did get four treats and then spent some time outside before being brought in. We had some more petting time before he was forced into the car, his least favourite place, before being brought to the vet.
I really miss him today but feel most badly that our son will not grow up as planned with his furry brother, who was like a dog, child and cat to us.
