She's realized the real problem with stories -- if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.Ember the Wonder Cat is dying. We got the word from the vet this morning, when bedfull_o_books took Ember in to find out why she was going to her water bowl and staring at it as if she didn't know how to drink any more. Apparently, cats with kidney failure do this.
Ultimately we always knew it would come to this. Eighteen years is a pretty long life for a cat. The last few months have seen her health slide downward, certainly with occasional rallies, but always ending up worse. I didn't expect the end to be this abrupt, however.
It's been fortunate for us all that for the last couple of years Ember has had nearly all day company as I work from home these days. She's always been a social cat and appreciated having us nearby, even if most of what she did lately was to sit near us and snooze.
The vet suggested bedfull_o_books take her home so she could spend one last day here. We're having a calm restful day together.
Tomorrow morning we take her back to the vet and they do that thing which people like to call "put to sleep", a euphemism I've never particularly liked. The arrangements for her cremation have already been made. Her ashes will be scattered in bedfull_o_books' parents' back garden, a place Ember had always liked when she visited in years past.
bedfull_o_books herself has been weepy since she got the news. I tear up occasionally myself, most particularly when I write about it. There will certainly be a hole in our lives after Ember is gone.
In the meantime, she is curled up next to me the way she always does, resting quiet and alert as I type this.