The Vet took this photo this morning before the scan and X-ray revealed the pancreatic cancer which had metastasized into the lungs. She wasn't in pain but would have been in a few days as she struggled to breathe.
We, or should I say I, made the decision and she wasn't brought out of that cosy sleep on the table.
Her "daddy" is a blubbering wreck who's just told me the best part of his day was coming home to play with her.
Last night she sat on my knee until after midnight as we watched another Stargate marathon.
He came home about 1 a.m. but the light was still on when I woke about 3. He was wrapped in his doona, sleeping on the lounge floor, his head on one pillow and the cat on the other with her paw on his face.
I paid the account, collected the carrier and watched the receptionist cry because she was such a sweet cat and went out to the sobbing father in the carpark.