RIP The Scamp, 2003-2019

Fresh-picked kittycat, pulled from a tree on a rainy day, June 7, 2003

The Scamp was looking like he was ready to check out at his evening feeding yesterday, weak enough that he didn't even bother to move when I unwrapped him from the swaddling towel. But by bedtime he had gone back to his hidey-hole in the darkest corner of the sitting room.

Roy checked on him this morning around 7:45. "He lifted his head and greeted me," Roy said. So I went about my business and prepared a syringe of cat food slurry for his morning feeding. When I went in, shortly before 8:30, the arch of his back and the set of his legs told me something was up. His flank was still warm but not moving and his mouth was slightly open with lips drawn back. His limbs were starting to chill.

Rigor is already setting in -- it's fast in cats -- but I managed to curl him up a bit so that he will be an easier package for transport. I've notified the vet by email. If they don't want to come pick him up I will call a cremation service I found on the web that offers pickup services. Failing that, I will send my regrets to my afternoon meeting and ask a neighbor to drive me up. I have one on stand-by.

Would heroics have saved him? Possibly, for a short time. But I think it may have been better to just let him fade away in the comfort of his own home.

Roy should be home between 11 and 12 and we will figure things out then. Meanwhile, I have nestled him into a photocopy paper box and have removed most of the sick room traces from the sitting room. I will leave the rest to Roy. (It's not much: take the litter box and associated things out back and hose them off for storage in the back house; vacuum "kitty litter alley.")

Feeling drained but relieved.