This is Lord Greystoke who left me this morning at 8.30. He's spent the last 3 months sitting on his feather cushion by my computer desk, only wandering out to eat or use the kitty litter.
He'd only go outside if I carried him and walked around the garden with him. He was a grand old Victorian gentleman of a cat who used to sneak in our back door when it was cold and sleep in a corner, making off when he heard us get up. I finally caught and caged him in 1991 and after being de-sexed and vaccinated, he lost that thick- necked tomcat look, becoming refined and luxury loving. The vet estimated his age then at about 3 years so he's had a long and happy life. I thought his teeth, never the best, were the problem but my vet found a huge tumour in his mouth that was closing over his throat so the kindest decision was made. I've done this many times before and I always hold them til they go, that way they're never frightened.
Because I trust my vet completely I gave her permission to do a dissection of the tumour. This adds to her knowledge and may save another animal. She took him away wrapped in his pink blanket. It will take a week or two to stop putting down two bowls and I'll still automatically step over him when I turn off the computer.