My Dearest Fuzzy

My dear cat, Fuzzy, is in his last stages of life. I don't know if I can deal with this. Fuzzy has been with me the past 17 years. He's been through all my ups and downs; all the apartments, my emotions, travels, driving cross country with me, oh, and all the boyfriends. When Fuzzy didn't like a guy, he let me know. He'd just stare at him, then hiss. He has this look of total frustration and disgust sometimes. I call it the look of death. He even was there when I got my first motorcycle! When he first saw the bike, he hung with me in the garage, sniffing, prodding and sniffing some more. Then going back inside. I guess it got his approval.

My Fuzzy always sleeps right next to me, under my chin. I feel his breath on my shoulder and his warm little body. At times he moves up on top of my head and licks my hair. Lately, though, he's so tired and old, he can't even jump on the bed, even with the stool I put there.

The last day or so has been so difficult for him. He has trouble moving his back legs and literally just drags himself. I feed him in my lap, because he can't stand up long enough in front of his bowl. I feel his pain.

This is so sad. Some folks would say to put him down, but I have a hard time comprehending euthanization.

For now, I feel his little breath against me until Jesus takes him. I just want to embrace him.

Peace and Love to all.