I'm not God

Our cat, Boomer, has been sick for a few months. It started with him losing a bit of weight, and then we realized he wasn't eating very much. A few visits to the vet and some hundreds of dollars later, we found out that Boomer is dying. Cancer likely, definitely kidney failure. We'll never know the exact cause, just that he's wasting away before our eyes. He used to weigh 12 lbs, now he weighs 5. It's shocking how frail and thin he is. He looks like a fourteen year old cat, not a 7.5 year old.

For the past month of so, we've been giving him subcutaneous fluids to help keep him hydrated, to make him more comfortable. It's been working pretty well. He starts eating a little more and drinking a little more. The vet showed me how to do the injections myself and I did for a while. But then Boomer really started to fight it, and his skin is so fragile that the needle would go right through. I gave up, feeling that I was causing more trauma than benefit and resumed having the vet give the subq fluids.

Up until the past few days, he's still had that Boomer spirit. Loving, feisty, always wanting a good cuddle. When Mr. Chili left for his overseas trip on May 3rd, and we never dreamed that the end was so near. On Sunday I cleaned out his litter box. There were but three small lumps of pee and one tiny lump of poo. From almost a week. Not good. On Monday (yesterday), Boomer was having trouble walking. He looked up at me, lost his balance and fell over. He had just one lick of wet cat food. I thought he had been eating some food daily. It turns out the asshole dog* was eating the food when I wasn't looking.** On Tuesday (today), Boomer became incontinent - he's peed tiny pees all over the house, despite the fact that I've carried him to his litter box many times.

He spends pretty much all of his time crouched down like he's uncomfortable. He doesn't curl up to sleep anymore, just hunkers down near us. He just walked into the office where I am writing this and peed on the carpet right next to me. I think this is an indicator of how miserable he is feeling. I am really struggling with the decision. People have said to me, "You'll know when the time is right." But what is happening is that I know he's suffering, that I'm tired of cleaning up accidents and worrying. And I wonder if I put him down, will it be to end his suffering or mine? How selfish am I, to euthanize a cat because I am tired of cleaning up. Then I think that he really is suffering. That he can hardly walk today, his back legs wobble and he loses his balance.

I called Mr. Chili late tonight my time, at the start of his day. I had to tell him where things are. And that I am going to call the vet on Wednesday morning to make an appointment to - what do I say? - put him down. Euthanize him. What I'm really doing is ending his life. Killing him. I was worried that Mr. Chili was going to be mad/upset at me. But he understands that Boomer is miserable and it needs to end.

I've never done this before. I know he's "only a cat". But he is my first cat. And this is very hard.

* Okay, the dog isn't an asshole. He took advantage of the conveniently placed chair, intended to help the cat, who can't jump anymore.
** I was so mad at myself for deluding myself into thinking that Boomer was eating again. Self-delusion much?