For starters, I've been on the news this week involving an immensely stressful situation.
But what is worse, I had to kill my best friend today.
Bonnie Prince Charles, who some of you may recall as the big tabby cat who appeared in many of my photos over the last six years, gazed into my own eyes for the last time with those lustrous, gold flecked, slitted orbs of his around 2 PM this afternoon.
Bonnie was the first cat we took in after moving to this property. I guess you could say he was the founder of the "house of TMC". Bonnie was at the vet about three weeks ago and they weren't sure what was wrong with him. He had diarrhea and was vomiting. He had lost weight. They ran tests and his white blood cell count was high. Not knowing what to do, they put him on a broad spectrum antibiotic. In the last three weeks he lost a massive amount of weight and had stopped eating entirely for the last two days. He looked out of it in his eyes. Today after lunch I took him to the animal emergency hospital. The doctor on staff examined him, did an ultrasound, and told me that his distended abdomen was tumors, that it was almost certainly cancer, and that it had progressed to the point where it was probably causing a total blockage. The prognosis was very bleak, with nothing in his future but suffering.
I loved that cat. I held his paw and kissed his cheek while he went to sleep, telling him to go chase the bunnies in the field.
He was exceptionally strong willed. Drove me nuts sometimes, though I loved him dearly. And what a personality: intelligent, friendly, outgoing, confident, cantankerous, single minded in purpose, jealous, possessive, and loving beyond measure. He loved me, and I him. He was truly a king amongst tabbies. A part of my heart got ripped out today and can never be replaced.
