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From: Noon Cat Nick on 9 Apr 2008 01:12
http://bootslack.wordpress.com/2008/03/09/my-little-man-is-gone/

This afternoon (3/8/08) my favorite cat and best friend, Puffy, died
from congestive heart failure. He had a bad heart from the get-go, and
we knew that this year was pretty much it for him. He has suffered
through surgery, and nightly meds, and the indignity of my inconsistency
cleaning his potty box and putting his food out at all hours for 5
years. He was a big baby, and was the head of the household (5 other
cats and 4 humans none of whom doubted for a second who was really in
charge.)

He loved being outside, although he was an indoor cat - we compromised
by letting him roam the yard. He was outside in the sun on a beautiful
day when he became disoriented and had trouble breathing. My sisters
brought him inside to me and I knew pretty much immediately that he was
dying. I decided not to take him to the vet because he hates the vet so
much, and there was very little they could do for him. He was having a
difficult time breathing, and he lay down. I lay down with him and had
the privilege of breathing his last breaths with him. I have been
worried for some time that he would die when I wasn't home, or possibly
when no one was home - I'm relieved that was not the case. I am also
grateful that he got a few days of sun. Being in the yard when the sun
was shining was his favorite thing.

Puffy has been with me through my whole recovery. He sits with me when I
write, he chews on the bindings of books as I read. He sits in bed with
me when I have migraines and knows how to sit perfectly still right next
to me so as to give support without demanding any attention, no human
has ever learned how to do that. He makes up for that when I'm at my
desk by taking my pen out of my hand, or crying to go in and out the
door over and over when I am typing and he is bored.

Every time I let him sit outside my door because I got tired of the game
is a nail in my heart today.

I cleaned his bowls and his litter box, and took his blankets and beds
and toys into the garage. I poured his pills into the drain, and
scattered his special food around outdoors for the birds. My sister and
I drove his body to the veterinary hospital for cremation. And now there
is nothing but the parade of mundane things none of which is the special
thing that he was, and the cruel fading of the awareness of his
significance over time which our weak human hearts are selfish enough to
call peace, which peace won't come for a while yet.
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