Shirley and her littermate, Laverne, both turned 20 years old last month, and are (were) the two oldest cats in our vet's practice.
Last week, she started missing the litter box when she urinated; the next day, the urine was more blood than urine. After a quick trip to the vet, he basically said the ultrasound on her bladder looked like a "giant snowball," and she either had the world's worst UTI, or serious bladder cancer. After a few days of antibiotic therapy, the condition wasn't improving (in fact, she started having mobility issues last night), so we decided it was time for her to go. But she did get to spend her last afternoon doing what she liked best, sitting on her perch with the window open, enjoying the outdoors and watching the birds and squirrels, evil or otherwise.
It's hard to see a pet go, especially one that's spanned two wives and two centuries (nay, two millennia!), but it was the right thing to do. She will be missed, and I hope she'll find old Beauregard on the other side, and awaits her sister's arrival.
