Tuesday, July 10, 2007
I knew he was FIV+, so I had to know this would happen, but it's never good when it does.
Our cat Johnny, who adopted me and the puppies two years ago, left us this afternoon after a short illness due to liver problems. He had been a stray who had befriended Missy (my black cocker) when we lived in the East Buntyn neighborhood, although he had scratched the hell out of Silky (my Lab mix) once while I was out of town.
Yet, we got along famously when Johnny decided to move in with us, and until the last month or so, when he kept trying to go outside, which I should have seen for what it was.
Cats have this remarkable idea that when it's their time, they go off somewhere to die so they won't be a burden to their people. It's rather thoughtful of them, but I decided when Johnny stopped eating over the weekend that I could try to save him. Despite a trip to the vet and lots of medication, he went quietly this afternoon. Burial will take place this weekend on my friend's property in Alabama.
It goes without saying that he will be missed.