The last week has been devastating. We have spent 6 days trying to keep our beloved furry boy, Socks alive. He lost the battle and so did we. This was the bravest kitty I have ever seen. He fought to live and just got too weak to fight anymore.
When we decided he was suffering we took him to the vet to let him help rest. I could not have imagined our despair. Then we went home to 5 adult "aunts" who are still roaming the house looking for our little boy. One who was a mama to him, and let him nurse when he was 3 months old at least, as isolated under the bed in grief.
Now I know why there are so many books where the furry dies in the end. When this happens you want to tell the whole world their life, so it will not be lost.
I am amazed at having such a sick little one took all of our time, energy and attention. It took it away for ourselves, at times from each other and from the other furrys in the house. There was not not enough energy to go around. Thank goodness for my cousin, who fosters with me. She just picked up and did out of love for Socks and us.
A new appreciation I have for families with sick little ones. I normally am involved in several charity endeavors. There was no energy for anything but Socks, and I was beginning to worry if we had enough for him.
He was only with us about 6 weeks and everyone that met him fell in love with him, no matter what the species.
Good night our sweet prince, our sweet baby boy.