He had a heart murmur. We knew his time was limited. He started losing weight a few weeks ago. Started refusing food. Hanging out in random spots in the house where he usually didn’t explore. Started refusing water, a little later started losing hair. The vet said his heart murmur was terminal. It was hard to believe then, but this morning my wife and I had to accept it — our baby boy, the one we had since the beginning of our relationship, the one that had grown into a symbol of our beautiful relationship — ways dying. We called the vet, had him checked to make sure. Fluid had entered his abdomen. He didn’t have much time left, and the time he did have left would not be quality. His life would degrade further and there would be no stopping it. It was an easy choice, but the hardest one to make. I couldn’t be in the room because I feared I would try to say no, try to reverse what they were doing to him. My wife, once again, became the strength in our relationship and went in to be with him in his last moments. We love you, our son. We will miss you so much. Our hearts are broken, we loved him so much. But it was time for him to go and take his place among the stars. People believe that animals lives don’t matter as much as human beings, but when they touch you like Sushi did to our lives, you begin to really question that notion. He was the closest thing I had to a child, and he died today. And I am…just broken. We will miss you, Sushi, the innocent boy who came into our lives all those years ago. You were an AMAZING cat.
