Good-Bye Little Buddy

Tonight I have to do one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Mugsy, our 15-year-old little fuzzy boy (who was the first cat that The Wiff and I got together) has been very ill for awhile now and after failing to respond to treatments, losing weight because he will not eat, is going to be taking that final trip to the vet. I can't even bring myself to write it out. I've helped my sister when the time came for one of her cats a few years ago and that was hard enough. But this is my bubba. My little fuzzball. My Mugsy-boy.

I can rationalize this decision up and down, left and right. He is clearly not healthy nor happy and is only going to suffer and not improve. I know that it is the "right" decision for him and us as well. However, since I must like to torture myself, I can't help but think that there's something left that we could do to fix him. Of course there really isn't. He's done. He's just done. What sucks the most right now is that I know that we have to go do this thing tonight and I'm sitting here at work trying to keep it together. So far, so good. Tonight all bets are off though.

my little bubba, circa 1994 in our Allston apartment.

Just look at that face will ya?