Up most of the nights this past week with the kitten, Socks. He was so very sick and fought so very hard to live. In the end he couldn't make it and we decided to put an end to his struggle Thursday evening. He had thrown up early in the afternoon, and since he had gotten very sick throwing up seemed to make him more active. Not this time though.
He went into a coma and we sat with him for about five hours and decided at about 7:00 p.m. that it was time. We called the vet and took him right over. We decided to have him cremated so we didn't bring him back with us.
He had won everyones' heart including the adult cats in the home. One, a new mother with her own litter, who had lost two of her five, had adopted him and was especially close. She hid all day under the bed as though she couldn't bear to watch what was happening. After we came back she looked all over for him, because she knew we had taken him out to my house before and had always brought him back. Not this time.
I tried to pet her tonight, she shied away from me as if I was striking her. She had lost so many and I think that she had a special love for him.
He had been a stranger only a few weeks ago, but he captured everybody who met him.
My house seems empty now. Three pounds of yellow fur and now it seems as if there is a vast empty space that should be filled with a lion.