I'm having trouble concentrating today. This morning, we had one of our cats put to sleep. Beesley was our first cat, and the first animal I've ever owned. I brought her home four years ago, shortly after we purchased our house. Tim was still working at Lowes, and had come home to find an animal wandering the house, meowing speculatively about her new surroundings.
I know she was just a cat, but Beesley was such a sweet cat. Kind and curious, she was never a lap cat, but always craved human companionship. Where ever we were in the house, she was always some where in the room, always nearby. She loved hard pats on the back (she would meow approvingly), greeting one in the bathroom in the early morning, and she was talented at "patting down." She would spend 20 minutes gently pushing a pillow with her paws, lay on it for a minute or two, and then run away. She was a constant source of amusement for us.
Beesley had become increasingly"itchy" over the years, and in recent months it consumed her life. She was never not licking, and we tried new foods, new litter, allergy shots, pills, a raw diet, just everything, and nothing worked. She became sad and reclusive, covered with scabs, and her hair was virtually gone. Today, we decided that we needed to end her suffering. She's now buried in our yard, next to a rock in our tiny forest.
(Tim took these photos back when Beesley was healthy. Looking over them, we know we made the right decision, but it's still difficult.)