Just a little note to say goodbye to a pet. A friend of mine gave us a male Maine Coon cat about 10 years ago. He'd been a rescue from someone but my friend didn't know the details. He'd been declawed and fixed, so he wasn't a kitten anymore. He never fully bonded with the family but he did love to beg sandwich meat when we made sandwiches. He was a pretty cat. He tolerated some attention but preferred to just be around us, not with us.
About a month ago, I noticed he had stopped cleaning himself and that he moved slower. Being more of a pet lover than my wife, I urged her to take him to the vet. We had several discussions about it because she kept putting it off. Her upbringing gave her the perspective that a pet was more for working/helping around the house rather than being an adopted member of the family, which is how I was raised. So, we never got him to a vet...and his condition continued to deteriorate. The past few days, he couldn't even move from his spot on a pillow.
So, now I'm going through all the guilt and not-quite-anger of having failed to see if we could have helped him. It's a weird kind of detached feeling. And it doesn't help that two of my coworkers had to put down their dogs this weekend as well. Makes the cool evenings a little colder.
Goodnight and goodbye, Frisky. I hope you are in a better place now, with better people than we are.