I have never had a sick pet before, every pet that I had was a family animal and pretty much had been run over. So to make the decision to end her life was pretty traumatic for me. What gives me the right? Am I the worst pet owner in the world? Was there even a small chance she could recover? If I spent the thousands of dollars it would cost (with a small chance it would have helped), would she have lived many more years? This is what was running through my head since Thursday of last week.
Bourbon has been the one constant in my life for the past 10 years. She has moved 3 times with me, been an indoor kitty, an outdoor kitty, a fabulous bringer of dead and half dead presents for me, and even though she wasn't a huge fan of the cuddling, I know that she loved me in her own unique Bourbon way. I have amazingly great memories of her prancing through the snow, coming to meet me either after work or when I had been out near the chalet at the top of Grouse and walking back home with me, always staying a few feet away, but keeping a close eye on me, the 10 seconds flat it took her to take care of a hummingbird, her inexplicable love of corn (yes, corn - she loved it) finding her curled up in the sink at the cabin on Grouse, and one of my favourite memories - when she f*cking growled at a deer who dared to be standing in front of "her" house.
I know I did the right thing. She was in pain and was not going to get better. But it was still a really really hard decision. The circle of life is f*cking lame. I cannot fathom coming home to an empty house. I keep looking for her and wondering where she is.
RIP Bourbon. I love you and I miss you!