We May Have To Make A Very Tough Decision This Afternoon

Just lately, our darling boy, Bosco, has declined. I mean, like, fast. He's dropped half his body weight in the past couple of weeks. At first, we thought it was just old age (Our boy Mouse, who's a year older, is skinny as a rail, but still full of beans and demands), but he's stopped grooming, and seems to be completely out of touch with his environment.

He's currently at the vet, having bloodwork. We are supposed to return at 2pm. He's a fighter - he's battled a terrible bladder infection, a stroke, numerous stomach ailments, injuries, moves and adjustment to Sevvy. He turned very curmudgeonly when Sevvy appeared, then became reclusive and sullen after the stroke, but he still liked a cuddle and a pat.

Now, he just sits and either sleeps all day or makes his painful way to eat a bite, drink a sip or two of water, and pee and poo anywhere he fancies.

We are expecting the worst.

Goodbye, Boscobel

He never lost the kitten-soft feel of his fur. When I would return from our month-long visits to the States, he would crawl into bed beside me, against my leg, and lie close for hours. He always looked like he was sporting a chocolate-milk moustache. He had freckles on his nose. He flew to the States in a plane with his buddy Mouse, and loved nothing more than roaming the woods outside our back door, and bringing us gifts of mice and voles and baby snakes.

He always had delicate health, and there were several times we thought we might lose him to strokes and urinary tract infections and intestinal problems, but he always bounced back and proved us wrong.

He was tired of fighting. Today, I told him goodbye. He's gone. My little orange boy is gone.