I’ve sat down to write a blog post several times in the last few days and just haven’t had the heart for it. My wonderful cat, Sweetheart, who has slept cuddled up to me every night for the last fifteen years, has been diagnosed with inoperable cancer. The vet gives her 0-3 months to live, and of course we don’t know what the quality of life she’ll have during that time. The prospect of having to put her to sleep fills me with dread, but we also love her and don’t want her to suffer. We’re meeting with the vet tomorrow, to get more details and discuss our options. It’s heartbreaking.
The funny thing is that I always expected her to outlive The Fuzz (our other cat). He’s nineteen and a half, and in frail health due to irritable bowel disease, which almost killed him three years ago. She’s fifteen and a half, but I’ve always thought of her as a young cat, if only in comparison to the Grand Old Man. And Sweetheart is my special kitty…she insists on sleeping on me at night (and will cuddle up to Mike only as a last resort, if I’m out of town), gets me up every morning at 5am to feed her, orders me about, and generally insists that I am her one and only human. She’s been an affectionate, loyal, and wonderful kitty, and nothing and no one can replace her.
I haven’t much else to say, so I’ll leave you with two photos of my beloved cat: