Fluffy, in the foreground, with her brother in the garden in July.
We took our princess to the vet this morning and she was put to sleep at 9.15.
Last night I lay by her box. Pretty soon her brother, Scooter, came and lay beside me. Whenever Fluffy stirred I stroked her to let her know we were there.
Early morning, she struggled to her feet. Her back legs were very weak and she could no longer manage more than 2 steps at a time. Her head hung down.
I lay down and lifted her onto my chest, where we had a final wee snuggle. She purred as I held her there and she snuggled her nose down into my jumper.
I took her to the vet in her blanket with her hot water bottle. The vet was very kind and gentle and I was allowed to hold her, talk to her, and her final moments were with me rubbing her eyebrows which was her favourite scrunch.
We will collect her ashes in a week or so. I'll keep them for a while, then, in the spring, when it's warm, I'll put them in with where her sister is buried, under some carnations at the end of the garden.
It is so hard.... I am 43, and Fluffy has been with me since I was 25. It isn't the years, it's the milestones. Young adulthood to the first steps of middle age. Boyfriends, jobs, even homes come and gone. She was there through it all. That's what makes it hard to let go. My poor, cheesy-footed baby. I miss her meow already.
Thank you all for all your kind support and loving good wishes....