I have been saying that for about three years now. I don't know where else to vent this, so it's happening here.
Before I had Spawn, Hobbes was a fat, "senior" cat. After the baby came, Hobbes lost weight and had chronic diarrhea. This went on for Spawn's entire first year of life. We just knew it was the end.
But it wasn't.
Since we moved to Kentucky, Hobbes has gotten thinner and thinner. I know the reason is either a thyroid issue or cancer, but he's 17 years old. He's an old, tired kitty.
Two weeks ago, he had a huge drop in weight. He wobbles when he walks. He squeaks when he meows. He stopped purring. I switched him to wet food, which helped for a week. Now, he licks it a few times, and that's it. Today, I gave him a bowl of liquid from two tuna cans, and he drank every bit. I tried watering down the wet food, but I don't think he'll eat it.
I owe it to this wonderful pet - a part of my life for 17 years - to end his pain, but every time I think about it, I start crying. I don't have the courage to do it. He's suffering, I know it. I can see the glassy-eyed pain. I watch him fall over when he tries to go down the one step into his room. I don't know how he's managing to get in the litter box, but he is.
How am I supposed to do this?