We let Trevor go yesterday. I hope he’s in a place where there’s no pain or suffering. It was a horribly hard decision to make. He stopped eating, even baby food. We always said that when he stopped eating, it was time. Yet we still second-guessed. If we gave him antibiotics, would they help his probable gum infection? Probably. But what would happen next? He was 20 years old. He had chronic renal failure, a heart murmur, thyroid disease, teeth that needed to be extracted, and who knows what else. He was diagnosed with CRF and the heart murmur in 2006, and had been on meds ever since.

This past spring, a lower canine was protruding from his mouth. The vet recommended extraction, plus a complete dental exam and possible additional extractions, but no dental vet was available for at least two months. The estimated cost? Starting at $2500 and going up-way up-from there. We chose not to pursue the dental work. Had Trevor been half his age, we would have done it. But we had to be realistic. So his advanced gum infection is probably what led to his dying.

I expect him to come around the corner. I think I see him out of the corner of my eye. Marty and I burst into tears at the thought of him. I’ll never hold him, smell his delicious cat smell, or sit in the chair stroking him as he purred and pushed against my hand, ever again. The finality of everything hurts so much.

I held him while the vet administered the drugs. We sobbed so hard when he left us. But he knew how much we love him. I know he did. I thank God for every day we had with him, no matter how annoying he could be. He sat on the kitchen table and waited impatiently for bits. When we didn’t give him something from our plates, he tried to take it anyway. He loved catnip. He tolerated the dogs. Way back in 1994, he curled up with our Dante in the family room of our first house. We have pictures but I can’t look at them yet.

What a cat. I named him Trevor, our average-sized brown tabby. But his names were also Trebbie, Treb, Tray-ebb, Trev, Mr Kitty. I would hold him and whisper “kitty” to him in a special voice meant only for his ears. And he heard me.

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