Herbie was my mom's cat. He had to be put to sleep today. I was in the room with ma and Herbie when he passed, and I want to apologize to Herbie. Here's why.
Herbie had been having trouble getting his business done for the past year or so, especially the past week, so mom called her vet., who was on vacation, so she called another vet and made Herbie an appointment.
Herbie was seventeen and a half and lived four of those years with mom and dad, five more with mom alone. Herbie would smush his twenty-five pounds of coon catness beside dad on the recliner, and dad would pet Herbie all night long. When dad died, and you don't have to care or believe me, or believe in the spirit of this, but when dad died, Herbie mourned him by not getting up into dad's recliner for nearly a month. Herbie would sit in front of the recliner, look at it for a good spell, and go rest somewhere else. Good soul.
Since dad died, Herbie had become mom's main man. His giant green eye's looking after her like his life depended on her. Which of course it did.
Mom feared Herbie might not come home from the vet. this time; but she hoped the vet .would be able to get Herbie flushed out enough to send him home for one more run. I hoped the same. We always want a little more. "Fries with that?" Yeah, fries, and another two weeks with ole Herbie around would be just fine, thank-you.
So when ma got the call this morning from the vet. saying Herbie's kidneys had done their last work, she wasn't surprised.
I watched the slow but dignified death of my father; saw him lying passed away in his bed. Saw my Aunt lifeless in her bed at the nursing home too. I've been around my share of old, and very sick, and extremely hurt people, but I've never been witness to putting an animal down, which I feel is why I screwed up just a little.