He was about fifteen years old and caring for him had become more of a chore than a joy, but we still miss him. We put our kitty to sleep. (Yes, he was a boy. I don't know why I called him Bailey Jane.) He has been in decline for a couple years, losing a lot of weight, but for about the last three months he was throwing up everyday, many times quite violently to the point of dry heaves. In the last week he stopped cleaning himself and started throwing up and pooping on his sleepy blankie every night. It was time.
I took him to the vet on Friday. My husband couldn't go. He was too emotional. I cried as I explained that due to his age we weren't interested in expensive tests or treatments. They understood and agreed, but I felt like a real asshole. It was quick, painless, and over in three seconds. As soon as it was done my first thought was, "I changed my mind."
I think we did the right thing. His quality of life had really declined in the past year. He couldn't eat properly because his teeth were bad, but we had already pulled so many teeth. He cried almost constantly when he was awake. He was having a hard time getting around. Am I justifying my actions? You bet, because I feel really bad that my kitty is gone and I made the decision.
We both felt pretty strongly that we couldn't have a baby and care for an elderly cat that throws up daily. It just seems unsanitary to live that way with a baby around. But his health decline was much faster than we anticipated; now we have no baby, no baby on the way, and no fur baby. The house seems so quiet. We have no being that is solely dependant on us for care. Now it is truly just my husband and me. We are alone for the first time.