It actually happened on Monday, May 7, but I've been so torn up about that I haven't been able to post it. I had to take him to the vet last Thursday because of ulcer like signs. For some reason, I had also recently starting thinking that he had tumors. I had her do an ultrasound, and his abdomen was full of them, including a big one off of his liver. We decided to try to get him through the ulcers to see how long he could make it. The answer to that was not very long.
He went downhill over the weekend - the meds were extremely stressful for him, and he was refusing to eat. I had to forcefeed him. He just laid there, not messing himself, but only going to the bathroom when I put him in the litter box. He couldn't really walk, and it was obvious that his quality of life was, well, gone. Sunday morning he developed a very noticeable head tilt, and he kept trying to tuck his head under. I decided that if he hadn't improved by Monday morning, I would help him cross.
Monday rolled around, and there was no improvement. I called out of work, and spent the morning with him in my lap. I don't even know if he knew I was there at that point, he was so out of it. I talked to him constantly, even though I knew he couldn't hear me (he was deaf), telling him how much I loved him. Pointless, I know, but I couldn't just sit there in silence.
We got to the vet's office at about 1:15. After a consultation, she agreed with me that the biggest act of love would be to let him go, so I did. My sweet little baby boy passed out of this world around 2:00 pm. As he went, I tucked his head under my chin and told him one last time how much I loved him. I knew he couldn't hear the words, but I hope he felt the vibrations and knew I was there as he went.
I'm just shattered. I thought that after losing Cheeba, nothing could be as bad as that. But this is bad in a different way - he was the baby of the group, and it happened so damn fast. I think his Waardenburg syndrome probably had something to do with it, but whatever the reason it's so unfair. He should still be here. He was only 3 1/2.
I miss you, Bonkman, my crazy little wardancer. Dance on, sweetheart.
