I returned from holiday on the 13th of September '04 to find that Thomas was pretty much his old self, but he would lie down suddenly after any exercise. I contacted the vets who told me to increase his Ferusemide dose. On Sunday the 19th, he was very ill. He had a terrible asthma attack all day and wouldn't eat, so I couldn't get him to take any of his pills. I took him to the vets first thing on Monday morning. Thomas was found to weigh more than last time which surprised me because he looked so thin. The extra weight turned out to be water retention. The vets X-rayed him and took a blood sample. I desperately wanted to take him home because I know how terrified he is of the vets. However, the vet advised me that he needed to be kept in and put on a drip overnight to sort out his liquids. The possibility of euthanasia was also brought up.

Later, I was told that he perked up quite soon after being taken in and ate some chicken, but then he got worse again.

On Tuesday I asked to be able to come and visit him. They took him off his drip and brought him into one of the consulting rooms where I sat alone with him on my lap. He was obviously a very sick little cat, though he perked up when he saw me and purred a little, ate a little fish and then slept. I was starting to come to terms with the thought of losing him. I had always wanted him to die at home where he felt safe and secure. However, I could see that he was far too ill to move and after having spent half an hour with him looking so relaxed, I realised that it could be done at the vets. I went home again and waited for the results of his blood test. I went back at 6pm and sat with him on my lap again for half an hour. This time, he looked worse, he didn't respond to me and just lay with his head in the crook of my arm. The vet came in and told me that the results of the blood test didn't tell them very much except that his white blood cell count was up and that it may indicate a secondary infection. She asked me what I thought. I couldn't get my mouth to work properly, but eventually, I managed to say that I thought it was time to let him go. She left me with him for another quarter of an hour and then came back and asked it I was ready. I said yes and she came back with the syringes.

Thomas already had a catheter in his leg for the drip, so the injection was administered through it. Thomas simply relaxed and went to sleep on my lap while I talked to him and stroked him. The vet then made the second injection and checked his heart rate and told me that he had gone.

She left me with him to say good-bye, then when I was ready, they took him away and I went home.

I had asked for another year with him when he hurt his back and it turns out that, that was almost exactly what I got. Now I wish I'd asked for longer. Thomas was dearly loved and I did everything I could to give him a happy and safe home. I miss him greeting me first thing in the morning and when I come home. I miss his company at night and the house feels very empty without him. However, I do believe that he went at the right time and to try to struggle on with him would have been wrong.