Saying Goodbye to Willoughby

Seventeen years ago, when we were vacationing in Vermont, there was a wonderful couple, Calvin and Stephanie, who owned a camp up the lane from where we rented.  We visited them often, played with their dog and cat, and David chopped wood for them as the gentleman who was in his seventies at that time was no longer able to do it.  Over the course of several years, we became very friendly. 

One summer, they had two kittens in addition to their cat.  She had had a litter earlier in the spring, and Stephanie had given away all but these two.  The mother cat was a long-hair calico, one kitten was pure white, and one was white with gray markings.  Stephanie planned to keep the pure white kitten and thought she'd give the white and gray one to Dick in the next cabin to have as a barn cat.  The thought of that lovely long-hair white and gray kitten as a barn cat didn't sit well with me as I knew its life span wouldn't be long. 

We took the white and gray kitten home with us and named him Willoughby.  Mind you, we already had two orange male cats, and adding a third male to the mix (even if they were all altered) wasn't one of my best ideas.  Eventually, everything got sorted out, and the cats settled down.  The largest orange cat, Mr. Big, was the alpha male, and Willoughby was second in command.

What surprised me was that as he got older, Willoughby's gray markings disappeared. He turned into a solid white cat who looked like the photos of classic Turkish Angoras. On the other hand, his brother Willie, whom Stephanie had kept, became a dark gray-almost-black and white cat. We wound up with the pure white one after all!

Because we keep our cats indoors and don't let them go out, they live longer.  But over time, the two orange cats lived out their lives and died.  For several years now, Willoughby has been our only cat.  After the death of Mr. Big, Willoughby became a very affectionate animal.  He knew our routine, and would eagerly await the evenings when we would join him in the family room.  Lately he's spent half his time in D's lap in his recliner and half beside me on the sofa.  He's been wonderful company.

Today, after seventeen years, we have to say goodbye to him. He's had some trouble with arthritis which is to be expected, but now he has even more difficulty lying down. Over the past month, he's not been eating much and so has dropped weight. About a week or two ago, I noticed a lump on his side, and this week it was noticeably larger so we made an appointment with our vet and took him in. We knew what she would say, but it was hard to hear it anyway. Willoughby is down to six pounds and is in pain. We took him home for a last day or two, but today he will be put to sleep.

It's a hard thing, a sad thing to have to do, but we know it is the right thing.  We have to say goodbye.