This morning, I had to have my cat Rush put to sleep. My heart is broken.



I've written about him before -- born in my bedroom, named for that Rush because as a kitten he was really loud, pretty obnoxious, and when he nursed he always rooted to the right. He was Guppyman's cat, and the center of his universe, for a long time. When Guppy discovered that Stormii and the Little Angel were allergic to cats, Rush came back to me.



Rush had been an inside cat through all his years with Guppy, but we live in a neighborhood with almost no traffic, so I introduced him to the great outdoors. The first time he went outside, it was a 30-minute, belly-to-the-ground trip of about 20 feet, but within a week he was going out and loving it. He climbed trees and chased bugs and cooled off in the shade. I'm not sure that he ever left the yard, but you could see that to him, it was a jungle and he was the fierce feline.



He was one of those easy-going, friendly cats who never met a stranger. All the construction workmen were enchanted by him because he would hang out with them and watch their every move. He also would jump up on their sawhorses and ladders the instant they were free. I guess they could have been annoyed by that, but they seemed to find it charming.



He was my baby. He always loved a certain perfume of mine -- I'm convinced it took him back to when he was a kitten -- and he was always cuddly. He was also active and fun to watch. On Easter, he jumped into an empty chair at the dining table and sat there looking just like a toddler who is sitting at the adult table for the first time. He kept his paws off the table, but he looked around with a wow-look-at-me! expression. That wasn't just my flight of fancy; everyone at the table saw the same thing. It seems like everyone who ever met him commented on what a great cat he was.



He had been peeing a lot, but he has always struggled with urinary tract infections, and I thought that was a good thing. His appetite has been great, he's been active and alert. Friday night he was not hungry, not even when I put down wet cat food. Saturday morning he was lathargic and I took him to the vet. She told me he had diabetes. I had no idea a cat could even get diabetes. She wanted to put him down right then, since he was about a month shy of turning 15, but I couldn't do it. I hadn't had any time to prepare myself for a fatal illness. So I took him to the emergency clinic for the weekend. The vet there called me Sunday morning and said that Rush had not needed another shot of insulin since he got there the day before, and it looked like he was one of those cats whose pancreas started working again. I was so excited. But late that evening when I called to check on him, they said they had to give him more insulin shots.



I went this morning to transfer Rush from the emergency to the regular vet. I had a long talk with the vet who treated him over the weekend. He told me that if we could get him stabilized and on two insulin shots a day (and I would have had to hire someone to do those when I was traveling), there was still no guarantee that his pancreas wouldn't suddenly make its own insulin, and I would put him in a coma with the next shot. I was out about $2000 so far, and I realized that I could spend $10 or $20,000 and still not be sure that he would be okay. And most of all, he would have no quality of life. He had such a good life and he spread so much joy. The least I could do for him was spare him suffering and give him a peaceful death.



We are down to one cat, his mama, Chula. She is looking for Rush. The house is so quiet without him. Chula keeps demanding that I pick her up and cuddle her. I think we are crying together.