My cat died last night. She was 12 1/2.
She was fine Sunday night, her usual self. But she was constipated Monday morning (which has happened before) and I took her to the vet. She just got worse because her white blood cell count had been so low in the past few months that she could not fight off any infections. Yesterday I took her to another vet clinic around noon to get an ultrasound. I am so happy I got to see her. It was so sad, and she was so lifeless, but she knew it was me because she kept "talking" to me on the way over there. I'll never forget the grunting sounds she made in between talking - it sounded so much like a human. She couldn't lift her head and she was trying to look at me out of the corner of her eyes, so I held up her head so she could look at me.
The vet called last night and said it was quick, within seconds. She vomited blood and then immediately died. The vet said it was too quick for her to feel pain, and I'm glad that she was surrounded by people when it happened.
The vets felt that the low blood cell count was probably indicative of an underlying illness such as lymphoma.
So, I am glad for her that is was all so quick and painless, within a matter of 3 1/2 days, and she did not have to suffer for months during cancer treatments or surgeries or whatnot.
I have 2 other cats still, but Diapey was "the one". She was with me through a marriage, divorce, new found singledom. She slept beside me every night, and sat in my lap every night while I was on the computer. She was so sweet, I only heard her growl 1 time at a human. She hunted her "prey" (a feather toy) every night and brought it too me proudly. She'd throw rubber bands in the toilet or in the water bowl.
I feel like my heart has been ripped out and there is such a huge hole in my chest. Will the tears ever stop?