Mott, my fifteen-and-a-half year-old half-Siamese suddenly stopped eating about four weeks ago and became quite withdrawn, hiding in places he had never gone in the eleven years we've lived in this house. I know that when cats are ready to pass on, they look for a secluded, protected place for their last days. A realization came over me that it was soon to be his time.

Shortly after, I saw that his jowls, the inside of his ears, and the sclera of his eyes were tinged with yellow. I knew that he had end-stage liver disease, and that his death was imminent.

I cried a hundred times a day, as I more or less put my life on hold to make my companion's last days somewhat more comfortable. He decided to remain under my bed and only came out to drink water, lap up tuna broth, maybe eat a kibble or two, and use the cat box... all of which I moved to within a few feet of where he lay. I slept on the couch so that I would not disturb Mott as he tried to rest.

It got to the point early this past weekend where he became too weak to drag himself up on all fours and walk more than a few feet without falling down. He urinated where he lay several times. I was nearly hysterical with grief... and I am a fifty-five year-old, two hundred-plus pound man who thinks he's pretty tough.

I knew it was time, and I would have to make that last trip to the vet; but I couldn't bear the thought of doing it. I turned to the internet for advice, and perhaps some comfort. This past Saturday night, I found this forum.

I now know that all the grief, all the anguish, all the stress, all the things that happened, all my confusion... it is all normal, and I wasn't alone. I read so many of your stories, bawling like a baby through every one of them. But it helped me to make the decision. And I thank you all for that.

I woke up Easter morning to my baby lying half under the bed. He pulled himself up, walked right past the food and water and litter box, staggered, fell down, and let out a cry. It was time.

I gently picked him up and put him in the padded box I had prepared a week earlier and showed him around the house one last time, and let him see his littermate who was resting in another bedroom. Then I brought him into my car and and cried all the way to the emergency vet clinic, petting him and talking to him and singing to him. It was the most awful thirty minutes of my life.

I'm not ready to re-live those final moments, here. But the folks at this emergency clinic have a true heart for animal companions, and they treated me and my Mott with dignity. I thank them.

Now, I am doing what I must, and trying to bring my life back into the order it had before Mott left me. I grieve. I cry so much. The hole in my very being is almost too much to bear. But as others said, I too will get through this. And I will share my story, in hope that it will help another to make it
through this same journey. Thank you for letting me share.

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I totally understand.
Beautiful boy, wow.

For some reason I'm having relapse of grief, so for now, let me just offer my sympathy.

Bertie's Daddy
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I'm so, so sorry for your loss. Your Mott was certainly a beautiful boy, and I'm sure he had the most wonderful life with you.
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Mott was just lovely. I truly am sorry for your loss. Much kindness to you in this difficult time.
—Loving Riley, Rosy & Axl always 🐾

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Those final weeks when we know that our beloved ones are on their way to another world are so so hard to bear. Reading your post, I can almost feel your desperation and all the sorrow you must have gone through. I am so very sorry you lost your beloved and very sweet Mott - what a lovely guy and truly beautiful cat. My heart goes out to you. It is good that you came here - this is a safe place to be. We will all be here for you as we so well understand what you are going through.
My good thoughts are with you
Silvia (with Max forever in my heart)


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Mott is so beautiful
Sending you strength in the coming weeks
I'm really sorry you lost your mott
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I am so sorry Boots. He was a handsome chap, and you know you did everything you could to make him comfortable. Your size and age make no difference: grief is grief, and you are clearly a very loving and compassionate person. Mott was a lucky cat! 
I love you Buster! I hope we'll be together again soon xx
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Hello to all.

It was four weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, that I said goodbye to my precious companion Mott. Not a day has gone by where I don't cry over his passing. But I found strength on this forum, and life is (mostly) back to the way it should be. It will never be exactly the same, again.

I did something I found very helpful in my grieving process. I wrote down all the unique things Mott did, all things that endeared him to me. It keeps the memory of his life alive, and reading those things brings a smile when I have a tear. I would like to share them with y'all, because I know many of you would appreciate the joy he brought to me. I also hope this sparks someone who just lost a companion animal to do the same, and help with their healing.

Things Mott did:

Mott would tell me that he wanted food, by jumping up on the desk and staring at me, or by sitting next to me and meowing when I talked to him.

Our nightly routine. He'd jump in the bed and lay across my chest. I would pet him for awhile. Then he would get up and lie in the crook of my arm at my side. Then go back up on my chest. Then go back to my side. He'd repeat this two to six times before he got up and went into the living room to sleep with Bitty (his littermate who is still with me).

Jumping on the bathtub and then the countertop, first in the morning when I entered the bathroom. I'd pick him up and hold him like a baby, and he'd purr.

Tearing through the house, then jumping on the couch, on the back of the couch, and then leaping to the top of the bookshelves. Then coming down just as quickly and tearing through the house some more.

Snuggling with Bitty, in the clothes basket, in their bed, on the couch.

He'd sleep on the mobile storage drawers in my office. Bitty never slept there, so it was Mott's place.

Jumping up on the entertainment center and trying to go behind the TV.

Sitting on top of the box that was covered with fabric bags, every morning when I got ready for work.

Jumping in my bed at 4 AM, and sleeping next to me, or on me if I were covered. He would be awake when my alarm clock went off, and then he'd run to the kitchen for canned food.

Greeting me at the front door every day after work.

The loud purr when he was petted just right.

He had only one meow, so it was hard to tell what he wanted just from his voice.

Every time I opened the refrigerator and pulled out cheese, he'd hear the crinkle of the plastic and ask for some cheese.

Nibbled the dried straw from around the base of my fake ficus plants.

Jealous of human company that took my attention away from him.

I had to keep the bottom drawers of all my dressers open, or else he would claw them trying to open them so he could jump inside.

He would open the drawers in the kitchen and jump in them. He would also push open the drawers above him from behind.

He would kiss me (rub my nose with his) when he was sitting in my lap and I was talking to him and petting him.

He would play fetch with the toys I made out of pipe cleaners. I would throw a toy, and he would run and grab it in his teeth, then bring it to me and drop it at my feet, waiting for me to throw it, again.

Would never let me read a book. He would always jump in my lap between me and the book.

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