Puck.

Our oldest boy Puck was put to sleep tonight.

We had been getting concerned that he’d been losing weight; he was getting bony, but then he was 16.  Monday, I’d noticed that he was curled up under one of our bookshelves — a little unusual; he normally claims the bed because of the sunbeams.  When I tried to pet him, it got a pathetic meow, and a squirm-away.

when I got off work (my current job allows telecommute) and Brett came home, I finally had enough and pulled Puck out to get a better look at him.  He seemed fine — until he walked.  He was dragging his right back leg; it hung limp.

We were terrified that he’d broken it; we ran him to an emergency vet.  The initial prognosis was a possible blood clot, and stupid us, we were initially relieved.

But from there, it just got worse.  They held him overnight to run tests to determine what caused it; we got word today about 3pm that the xray and ultrasound had found a huge mass over his heart and lungs — cancer.  The blood clot was actually a stroke, and had been caused by the cancer.  The vet told us that yeah, they could do treatment, or we could just take him home…the first option horrendously expensive and not likely to succeed, the second option guaranteed to cause more pain, because a second clot/stroke was inevitable, even with meds.  It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

We saw the xrays.  If that mass had been in a human, in the heart and lungs, there would’ve been no hope.

Puck was put to sleep tonight at about 5:30 pm.  We held him all through it; he was stretched out over me and Brett’s laps and purring until the end. 

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