It turns out Gus' blood results were pretty bad. Obviously, despite our best efforts, the kidney disease gained a hold and took him away from me.
I took Gus to the vets' (when my first cat, Ceasar, died at 22 years of age, we took him to the Humane Society. They were anything but 'humane' with how they treated our feelings, telling us brusquely that they would dispose of 'it' properly as soon as they weren't busy) and had a few minutes to speak with his vet. Of course he expressed how sorry he was and we chatted a bit (with me weeping most of the time) and he let me know that in his case, with the four cats he's had die, three of them he put down as a vet, and one died in his arms at home. It's easier on him with the last one, since he doesn't have the doubts about 'what if I gave him one more day?' He thinks, that if Gus had any sort of say in the matter, he (Gus) would have wanted it the way it happened.
It's a small solace, but I'll take what I can get.
So, they will cremate Gus' remains. Instead of getting them back in a box with a plaque, which I don't think is going to help my grieving process any, I've elected to have his ashes scattered at the pet cemetery. They have something new, which I did decide to do -- they are going to cast his little paw prints for me. I think that will be a better memorial for me than his actual ashes.
I'm going to wimp out for now and give a blanket 'thank you' to everyone who's offered condolences. I know it doesn't seem like it sometimes, but virtual *hugs* do help. I'm so grateful that I have such wonderful friends to help me struggle through this. I'm so sorry that it's undoubtedly bringing up painful memories for some of you, too. Thank you, for being so generous, as to offer *hugs* and help, despite what it puts you through. Truly, I am blessed with wonderful friends.
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I took Gus to the vets' (when my first cat, Ceasar, died at 22 years of age, we took him to the Humane Society. They were anything but 'humane' with how they treated our feelings, telling us brusquely that they would dispose of 'it' properly as soon as they weren't busy) and had a few minutes to speak with his vet. Of course he expressed how sorry he was and we chatted a bit (with me weeping most of the time) and he let me know that in his case, with the four cats he's had die, three of them he put down as a vet, and one died in his arms at home. It's easier on him with the last one, since he doesn't have the doubts about 'what if I gave him one more day?' He thinks, that if Gus had any sort of say in the matter, he (Gus) would have wanted it the way it happened.
It's a small solace, but I'll take what I can get.
So, they will cremate Gus' remains. Instead of getting them back in a box with a plaque, which I don't think is going to help my grieving process any, I've elected to have his ashes scattered at the pet cemetery. They have something new, which I did decide to do -- they are going to cast his little paw prints for me. I think that will be a better memorial for me than his actual ashes.
I'm going to wimp out for now and give a blanket 'thank you' to everyone who's offered condolences. I know it doesn't seem like it sometimes, but virtual *hugs* do help. I'm so grateful that I have such wonderful friends to help me struggle through this. I'm so sorry that it's undoubtedly bringing up painful memories for some of you, too. Thank you, for being so generous, as to offer *hugs* and help, despite what it puts you through. Truly, I am blessed with wonderful friends.