Ours has clearly been living it up for the last 18 years. It is absolutely on its’ last one and so rapidly accelerating towards back garden burial.
Basically at 18, the poor old bugger has gone loopy. Shitting everywhere, lost the use of her rear legs, howling at the moon, refusing to eat. The vet has handed her back for one last night before administering a lethal injection first thing tomorrow. No point in any tests or treatment, too much stuff broken inside apparently.
The kids have never experienced dead pettage before. So I’m wondering what approach to take:
– Give ’em the facts. Cat dies tomorrow, make your goodbyes now.
– Pretend it might get better
– Offer up alternative cattage in forms of a kitten each when the old lass finally shuffles off to the great catnip in the sky.
– Throw loved family pet under a passing truck, dispense with vet bills, explain to children it was someone elses cat they’ve played with for the last 6/8 years, and now they want it back.
Tears all over the place in there. God knows what it’ll be like when a grandparent hits the buffers.
This is proving to be a trying 24 hours. I’ll explain why once the current crisis is over.
18 years! You mean I am stuck with our useless pile of fat/fluff for another 4?
Well my story would be that the cat is going to the pet hospital for a 3 week long course of botox injections. It will return looking a little smaller, perhaps a different colour and with any luck a bit more constipated. You might find that explanation doesn’t work so well when the grandparents go though…
Just tell them, they’re old enough to understand. When “The Padster” shuffled off this mortal coil, it was great gulping sobs all day, by the evening…”Can we have a kitten next time?”
Heartless little bastards
You say useless Dave? In what way? Was it in any way useful when it was thinner/requiring less fluffing ?
Nig – as ever, an interesting idea clearly forged on the crucible of extreme alcohol imbibing. Am I right?
Nick – we did the Kitten thing when we thought she was on her way out a few months ago. Immediately the kids went from “ooh poor kimmie, I hope she doesn’t die” to “is the bloody cat still alive, I WANT A KITTEN”.
It’s all been a bit fraught especially for the little one and I can see a solemn burial service coming up tomorrow. I just hope I don’t accidentally excavate pre-children dead cats.
Al, 10 years ago we didn’t have pidgeon shit all over the back garden. These days they form one of those rugby line out tunnel things and clap the cat as it traverses the lawn before shitting on it. No pidgeons was useful.
Kill ’em and cook ’em Dave. I’m reliably informed they taste of chicken. I can see it now “Dave Barter – Licensed to Grill”