Family had to get one of our cats euthanized today. She was thirteen years old, she had a bad tumor in her digestive system. Mom and I kept having to feed her with a syringe because she would refuse to eat, and she couldn't walk as steadily or as quickly. She was an old kitty, and I didn't interact with her much (she liked my mom best), but god I miss her. She purred a bunch at the vet's office, so I guess she was happy in a way to pass on.
Make sure to hug your cats everyone.
Three months ago I lost my closest friend. I don't need to tell you the degree of our friendship, because you already know. He was perfectly fine and healthy until a lump appeared on his neck. We did everything to cure him, until we learned precisely how terminal his condition was. Could love and care cure cancer, he'd be in my lap right now.
It was very hard to let go, but I came to accept something beyond my power: All his good days had passed.
The cruelest part of scheduling his last day. How can anyone do that, decide the final hour of your friend's life? I wanted there to be more moments and minutes as though they'd add up to months, but I knew that wasn't reality. So I made sure his end was as peaceful and- hopefully- enjoyable as possible. He had a weekend full of all his favorite things.
I don't have words of condolence for you, but I do have something to offer. Immediately after this I found an album that fit the themes of this experience perfectly. We Will Always Love You by The Avalanches. Maybe that can help you like how it helped me.
I listened to the album, and it helped, a little. Well, more than a little. Thank you, comrade.
I found myself listening to this album alot. A lot a lot. Eventually it fixed something within me that I didn't realize was broken. You will find your mind in a better place, I just can't say where or when.