Saying goodbye to Eddy

We got Eddy about ten years ago. We adopted him through the PetSmart adoption center. He chose us. We were looking for a kitten, but this (appoximately 1 year old) fat kitty snuggled in my arms, reaching out to paw at Summer's nose, and we knew he was meant to come home with us. 

A little over a week ago, I noticed that Eddy wasn't feeling quite right. Brad was out of town though, and Eddy always was stressed out when we left the house, so I didn't think too much of it. But he started vomiting bile and he looked a little thin, so I made an appointment with our vet. I never got to take him to that appointment (it would have been this evening, postponed due to the last snowstorm).

On Monday Eddy wouldn't eat his food, wouldn't drink, wouldn't sleep. He sat on the counter, watching us and drooling. I discussed taking him to the emergency vet with Brad, but with the storm, it was risky. He spent Monday night wandering the house and crying.

I took him to the emergency vet yesterday morning, and unfortunately, it was determined that he had kidney failure, and it was about as advanced as you could get. We made the decision to say goodbye yesterday.

We are thankful that he did not suffer long (up until Saturday he was mostly his normal self). But it was so unexpected. We didn't think we would be saying goodbye to him yesterday. We'd hoped that whatever was making him sick, would be fixable. We couldn't save our little buddy.

There will never be another cat like Eddy. We liked to call him a Sourpatch Cat, because he would be a total pain in the butt much of the time, but then come snuggling up to us all sweet and purry. He got into everything. We couldn't leave any sweet pastries around, or foam bath toys. He'd get into the cabinets and closets, banging around at all hours of the night. He'd eat strings from towels and clothing and he'd torment our other cat. He was always on the counter during dinner, no matter how many times and methods we used to try to get him to stop.

But he was our pain in the butt. And we will miss him, so much.

I hope he's up there in kitty heaven, laying in the sun with my Gizmo. I know he's not in any pain now, and that we did the right thing. It just hurts.

Goodbye, my friend. My snuggly fat kitty. My Sourpatch Cat. You will never be forgotten.