Rusty died today, not by accident but by design. One day after his seventeenth birthday the vet came and stopped his heart. He looked at us and said one last “meow”. I guess the shot hurt.
God, this is hard. Say what you will about pets vs. people, losing anything that you love is wrenching. I knew Rusty for seventeen years. Every time I came in the door, he was there. Every time I fell asleep, he was on the bed, and there when I awoke.
I’m sad and I’m happy that he’s gone. Happy? Yes, because he had something wrong with his digestive system and was slowly starving to death. We had the ability to give him a peaceful end at home sleeping on Mary Anne’s lap.
But I miss him terribly already and it will be a long time before I don’t.
