Goodnight, Sweetheart

I euthanized Hulk yesterday. It was beyond time, honestly. I always swore that I would never make my animals suffer through any major illness, but Hulkie was such a trooper, we really couldn't tell when the suffering began. It wasn't until the night before last, when he tried to jump up on the counter, and missed, that we knew it was time. We've always teased that he was half-kangaroo, often leaping from ground to top of fridge gracefully.

Dr. Carraway was so gentle and loving towards him. Before actually doing the deed, she held him a few minutes, kissed him, stroked his little head. I held him as he died. It was gentle and quick, and, although I swore that I wouldn't, I cried. He was a good cat.

I spent a little time last night looking for a picture of him to place here, but I don't seem to have a single one on the computer. Once I find one, I'll properly memorialize him, I suppose. For now, I guess I'll just focus on getting over this four-pound gap in our house.