This afternoon when I went to give Josquin his medications, I found him in Mark's office under a folding table. When I called his name, instead of getting up, he rolled his head over to look at me. His eyes were wide and I could tell something was wrong. I reached through the table legs to pick him up. He was responsive but limp like a rag doll. When I put him on the bed to give his meds, he couldn't stand up and kept flopping over. I put a little baby food on my finger and put it in front of his mouth but he wouldn't touch it. He kept trying to get up and wanted off the bed. I moved him to the floor where he proceeded to try and crawl into a corner. He began panting heavily and slobbering, continuing to try and hide. I knew he was dying then. I tried making him as comfortable as possible and made sure he wasn't bumping into things. Finally he stopped struggling. His breathing slowed and his body began to twitch, followed by small grunts and sighs. I held him gently as he let out his last few breaths and then he was still. I stroked his head and petted him from one end to the other then I kissed him goodbye.
Goodnight sweet prince, may there be endless fields of mice and catnip wherever you roam....You made me laugh, drove me crazy, made me cry like a baby AND we had LOADS of fun together. You were with me through some of the worst times in my life-and I never would have gotten through them without you. You taught me a lot about being gentle and loving-and you were a good brother to Tweed too. In the end, you taught me about grace and reminded me about the circle of life-to appreciate what we have when we have it. I hope that I did right by you even though I wasn't always at my best. You set a benchmark for every other cat that comes after you-and there will never be another like you. Missing you terribly already...Your Papa, Steve.
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