Scraps (the cat) died this evening. Her spirit still soared even though her body was ravaged by the hungry tumor. We're comforted that she died on the anniversary of John Lennon's death. Imagine!
It's a terrible responsibility to have to decide when to 'put down' a beloved pet. The vet oncologist predicted that Scraps would be dead the first week of August. Scraps had other plans. We discussed markers with the vet: if she no longer enjoyed being petted, if she could not longer eat, if she could no longer walk. She achieved the third marker this morning. And still she thought she could dance. Again the vet was amazed and comforted Scraps by reminding her that cats don't like to be carried to their boxes. Cats yearn for freedom and independence. Scraps now has both.
I have nothing but amazement and admiration for Scraps who refused to acknowledge that lethal tumors were nothing more than petty inconveniences.
And now she can dance on all four legs with an eternity of endless opportunities.