More detail

Thanks to all of you who’ve commented. I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to reply to each individually; I’m running pretty low at the moment.

Taltos had been sort of slowly fading for a while — getting skinnier at any rate, though as energetic as always in running to hide. He was always afraid, see, and I never managed to convince him he didn’t have to be. I decided against taking him to the vet, because changes were it was just age, and adding the stress of vet visits and medication would likely negate any good the medications might have done.

I still don’t know if it was the right decision, but it’s the decision I made.

There have always been whole days when all I’d see of him was a pair of eyes under a table. He was always _afraid_, and I tried and tried and tried to teach him he didn’t need to be, and I never managed it. So I mostly left him alone, except to check on him every once in a while.

A few days ago he was fine.

Yesterday he ran past me into the closet — stumbling, almost dragging himself along, I went in after him immediately.

He still had the energy to scratch me up pretty good, but it was clear he wasn’t okay. His legs weren’t working right, his tongue was stuck partway out of his mouth and wouldn’t go back in. Stroke, or possibly a brain tumor that finally got big enough to push on the wrong things. I held him for a bit (and the fact that he let me told me everything I needed to know) and then went over to Tim’s and had a meltdown.

I knew he had to go. It was time. But he’s always hated the car, hated the vet’s; I was stressing him enough just leaving him in the bathroom, though he wedged himself behind the toilet and seemed somewhat serene with that.

Tim, bless him, made all the arrangements. I wouldn’t have been able to talk on the phone — could barely talk in person. I stayed in the bathroom with Taltos and tried to think of a way to make it easier on him. I got a syringe and got a little water into him, which he seemed happy about. And I got out the bottle of valerian and rubbed a little on his nose.

That seemed to calm him down a lot. I got him curled up in a cat bed without him fighting it, and he relaxed once he was in it. He didn’t cry in the car, didn’t panic at the vet’s.

All I’ll say about that was they let him go easy, and I’m glad I thought of something to help with that. I can’t bear to think if he’d been terrified.

Loiosh isn’t letting me get too down. If I get too depressed he bites me on the nose (”I trained him; he bit me”). Chocolate is being extra-loving, Samson’s being his normal hateful self but that’s fine.

I hardly ever saw Taltos but the place still feels empty. I miss him.

Here’s a much less Demon Cat picture:

Rest in peace, big guy. You don’t have to be afraid any more. Wait for me by the Bridge if you want — but don’t feel you have to. I’ll look for you there either way.