A month ago a lost my best friend of 16 years, Harley, my cat. Actually, to be perfectly honest and what I'm having the most trouble with is that I decided (too early I think) to let him go.
He was a rescue cat and a feral to boot but we became inseparable. He followed me everywhere, slept with me and paid no attention to anyone else. I adored him. About 2 years ago I thought I would lose him when he stopped eating, became lethargic and vomited frequently. Finally, after many expensive tests, it was determined that he had IBD. He was put on prednisone and responded beautifully. He fights taking pills and I had to resort to crushing them, dissolving them in water and administering that way. He acted (and I felt) as if he was being waterboarded. Anyway, that was fine for a while and then he was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. Also treatable with 2 pills per day. Needless to say he didn't like that but we did it. We had no choice. Then he started having very pale stools that my vet couldn't explain through blood tests so we went through an ultrasound. They thought his bile duct may be blocked but they didn't find anything.
I think the thing that broke my heart and made me think we may be near the end was when he began howling most of the night. I tried leaving lights on and I would get up at 3:00 am to calm him. As long as I was up, he seemed to be OK.
With all of that said, the twice daily pills that he hated, the still unexplained stools and the nightly howling, I decided that his quality of life was no longer what it should be.
I have the worst guilt you can imagine. For not trying harder. For not giving it more time. Even after a month I'm having a really hard time dealing with it and living with myself. I loved him so much. I think I was tired from lack of sleep and wasn't thinking clearly. I wish I had given it more time. I'm miserable.