I put my cat to sleep today.

Actually, he was the cat my brother picked out at the animal shelter (BOGO kittehs), but I've basically been his owner for the past 8-9 years. He just turned 16 this year. He's not been the healthiest of guys with getting hyperthyroidism and his lingering herpes that he got as a kitten, but he's still been this obnoxious old-man cat who runs around and tries to brow beat you for food. I honestly thought he'd outlive the other two just to make sure he was there to yell at us for food. We went to the beach for the weekend and took the dogs, leaving our cats behind with food, water, and peace from the schipperkes. When we came home, he's laying on the floor, struggling to breathe. He tried to walk, but had a lot of trouble with that. So, off to the emergency vet he went. They noted a weird mass where his kidney should be and a gallop heart rhythm, neither thing he'd had before. Still, I stupidly figured maybe, just maybe, some antibiotics and fluids would right his electrolytes and have him feeling better. I'm a nurse, I know better, but still clung to hope. He was okay enough to take to the regular vet in the morning, but when we got there, he was on his side and lethargic again. They felt the mass and they heard the gallop. So, they kept him for an ultrasound. They wound up doing an X-ray, which showed one kidney, massive and bumpy. Lymph cancer on the kidney, most likely. His heart was enlarged. He was still struggling to breathe. My husband and I had decided the night before to be humane if it was bad news, but that call about the X-ray was still just a gut punch. I knew I had to do it, but it still hurts horribly. I'm glad he didn't die alone, but I wish he didn't have to die in the first place. I've been crying all day, and it's the second time I've ever seen my husband cry. It sucks. It was the right decision, but I loved that mean old-man kitty. I'm really going to miss him.