Back in February, we noticed that our aging cat, Bella, had an inflammation of her cheek so took her in to the vet. At about eighteen years, it wasn’t surprising to learn that it was a tumor. She carried on quite well until yesterday when she wouldn’t eat breakfast.
We took her back to the vet and after examining how things had progressed over the months, the prognosis just wasn’t good. There was an option to perhaps buy her a few days or weeks, but really, it was time to do the loving and merciful thing.
We will miss her particularly charming style of orneriness which was balanced quite nicely with her affection.
Several years ago, I did the mental math comparing the approximate lifespans of each of our then four pets and guestimated that we may loose them in relatively short order. With one per year, so far, I’m sorry that my theory is working out.
“Bella was the best cat who ever lived in the whole world since cats have ever existed ever.”