Her health had been failing for the last year or so due to kidney failure; over the last 2 months, it had taken a serious downturn. More and more frequently, she became confused and frightened and lost in the house, was having trouble keeping herself clean, and in finding the litterbox. Although she probably could have lived for another year or more with veterinary intervention, we doubt that it would have been a happy time for her.
We have been struggling with this decision for awhile, but feel that it was the best thing for her, and for us. Gail stayed up late with her last night (because she had always been Gail's cat, since long before I knew Gail), and I gave Hobson some love this morning before Ben was up. The vet and vet-techs at High Peaks Animal Hospital were warm, respectful, tender, professional, and loving: they had a blanket on the exam table to make Hobson extra-comfy, along with a box of tissues; they gave us as much time before and after as we needed to prepare and say goodbye to Hobson; the vet explained exactly what was going to happen, and that it would be entirely painless; although I paid as we left, they assured me that it would be fine to do so the next time we were in...it was just very nice.
She was sweet, pink, fluffy, happy, loving, beautiful, and nearly perfect...a princess...
Hobson liked to lay in the kindling box by our woodstove in the winter and bake herself...when the fire was roaring hotly enough that you would think that she would roast, instead you would hear her purring like a pink and fluffy truck engine...that's how I remember her.
On the way home from the vet, we stopped off to buy her a Rosa Rugosa (pink, of course). I picked out a nice spot for her between 2 small trees, and laid her down on a bed of flowers.
In a house full of men (not counting Gail and tom-boy Thumbelina), she was Grace Kelly...
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