Spike and then Oliver

I have had wonderful cats share their lives with me for the last 50 years. Though I grew up with dogs and have had some great dogs in my adult life, I have well and truly become enamored of cats.  We got Spike 11 years ago, a year or so after we moved to Belfast. A neighbor had taken in his mother,  a stray who then had 5 adorable black and white kittens. Spike was a wee one when we brought him home. Spunky, bold, and a bit silly.  He was always full of mischief, pushing things off tables, knocking Neal’s glasses under the bd at night, making us laugh.He was  wonderful cat. Then quite suddenly in April he started losing weight and wouldn’t eat. Our spunky lively cat became lethargic and we feared each day we would lose him. The vet thought he was hyperthyroid and put him on medication. He rallied for a few days then declined again. Throughout his illness he remained loving, wanting to be with us, to be on my lap, purring and wanting  to be petted. The day came when we knew he was not going to get better. Our once 25 pound cat was down to 11 pounds and still losing weight and not eating. We and the vet agreed there was no kindness in continuing to keep him alive. He died May 12.Pets bring so much joy to our lives, give us something outside of ourselves to love and care for and reward us with love and fun. The awful thing is that their lives are so much shorter than ours so a life with pets is also a life with death and loss.Our other cat, Roscoe, is 5 years younger...
Source: Jung At Heart - Category: Psychiatry & Psychology Source Type: blogs