I'm talking about Scooter's final vet visit. Yesterday he was hiding under furniture and behind things where we couldn't get him. He ate a little bit last night and some this morning for breakfast, but not with his usual gusto. His breathing is increasingly labored, and he was starting to stagger some last night.
Right now I just feel numb. Just from his age we knew this day was coming. Today he is 19 years, 1 month and 2 days old. He's pretty ancient for a cat. However, the cancer is causing anemia, and that cancer is too far gone.
Anyway, we're off to the vet in just a few minutes. The gal I spoke to there said they had plenty of Rescue Remedy on hand. I said I'd take a few drops in my whisky. Just kidding. I won't be drinking on an empty stomach at the vet's office. I may be grieving, but I have more sense than that.