Tuesday my parents discovered blood in my cat’s urine (luckily she forgot to turn around when she got into the litter box or else we would have never known). The vet wanted a sample and yesterday called to have her brought in for a check-up but they think she may have feline diabeties. Not really a problem if she were a young kitten again, but she is getting up there in age.
For comparison, we got Princess in the Summer of ’86 the one before I went into kindergarten; this year I’m looking at my 5 year high school reunion. That is 17.5 years; she would be able to cast her vote for Bush this coming election (she is my cat after all). There have been two shuttle disasters, four Presidents, and three Govenors. She has watched the Berlin Wall and Communism fall.
Mom decided that if the vet recommends putting her to sleep, she won’t be coming home again. I don’t blame her, I couldn’t make the drive to the vet again.
The last time I cried like this was June 17th, the day after Father’s Day, 2002 when my grandpa died.