In the early hours of April 24th, my sweet little gremlin child Monty woke me in distress.
I rushed him to the 24-hour critical care hospital, and while they were able to see him quickly, the prognosis wasn’t good. The vet explained that even if we admitted him, his chances of recovery were extremely low, and any recovery would likely only buy him a few more months – maybe a year at most.
I was able to get a hold of my partner M. just after 4am and he took a cab to the hospital to be with us. Together, we said goodbye to Monty, who purred until the very end.
It’s been so strange coming home every day since then. I still open the door expecting to see his little face pushing through the gap, meowing and greeting me before I’ve even stepped inside.
He was only eight years old, and I thought we would have so much more time together. And while I’m so grateful for the time we did have…my heart is still broken.
