And it still seems so weird not to find Lennon curled up on my bed or snuggling at my side at night. It hurt to say goodbye to him two Fridays ago but I still know, deep down, that it was right. For the past year, he has been losing weight and we couldn't figure out why. Then the loose stools and the gas started. Various tests couldn't pinpoint anything; we thought it was old age because what else could it be? We tried various types of food. We babied him and loved him. He was part of a clinical trial late last year to improve his appetite and things seemed to stabilize for a while. He always remained the same super sweet, gentle, loving baby.
Then he started limping a bit over two weeks ago. Then, that Thursday, he came into my bedroom with his back leg held up and stiff and making sad crying sounds. Micah carried him downstairs and installed him on a cushion and Pixie pampered him all day. We put a heating pad beneath him. Then made a vet appointment for the next day.
An x-ray showed a fracture in his leg above his knee, something the vet said he almost never saw in an indoor cat. But the real worry was the worm-eaten-walnut look of the bone beneath the fracture. Bone cancer.
We could have amputated the leg and medicated him. We might have gotten a few more months with him but at what quality? He would have been 17 this July. He had a slight heart murmur and some minor kidney issues. I could not bear to do that to him.
Pixie and I held him and kissed him and said goodbye. He was the best of kitties, the sweetest. He was a cat that even people who didn't like cats loved.
I will always miss you, Lennon. I love you. I hope you and your sister Serendipity are playing together once more.
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