Greg is first of my kitties in a lot of ways: he was my very first trap-neuter-release, the first of the ferals to decide Iíd adopted him, the undisputed alpha of all my cats, and my unabashed most beloved kitty. He is seriously bonded to me in the way that only former ferals can be, and vice versa.
I learned ten days ago that he has bone cancer in one shoulder that has already spread to a lung. He has at most 1-2 months to live, but I will likely have to end it sooner because the progression will be very painful. For the moment weíre able to control the pain with medication. He sleeps most of the time, but when heís awake, he seems almost normal apart from a noticeable limp in the one shoulder. Iím spoiling him rotten with Fancy Feast appetizers, toys, treats, catnip, etc., and of course Iím giving him tons of lap time too, every spare minute I have.
I know heís enjoying the time he has left. When itís his time to go, Iíll make sure itís as painless as possible. Heís had a good long life. Heís been as well-loved as any cat on Earth has ever been. Heíll be at peace.
I know all of that, but Iím still not dealing with it well. Even after ten days, I literally canít stop crying. I still have to go to work and take care of eight other cats and act like a moderately normal human being, and Iím barely making it. Even Greg is getting sick of me sobbing all over him, but heís my baby and heís dying,
and I canít help it.