RIP Shelby, Pretty Kitty

Shelby, my beautiful boy, is very, very sick. He's always been a light cat, but he's lost so much weight that his little spine feels like you'd imagine a miniature brontosaurus to feel like. He barely moves, he just lies there in that cat crouch and purrs. Well, he doesn't purr all the time, just when I come over to him and pet him. Which is strange, because he didn't really like to be pet much at all. He's hardly eating, and then only when I give him canned food in gravy and put it right in front of him. He's not drinking much and must be dehydrated. I haven't seen him go to the litterbox either. And his beautiful big blue eyes are so distant and barely focus when he looks at me.

He still responds to me, and he still moves about a bit - I just never see him do it. I'll go to bed, and when I get up he's moved 4 feet. Or I'll come home, and some days he's still where he was when I left.

I only noticed this this week, and now I'm terrified to go home every night, and to wake up every day. I'm terrified I'll walk in the door and he'll be just lying there, staring off into nothingness.

Some days he seems a little better, and I think he'll be ok. Then the next day I wonder, is he really better or am I imagining it to make myself feel better, or am I in denial of the truth?

I'm terrified to take him to the vet, too. I'm so terrified they'll say there's nothing that can be done and I'll have to put him to sleep. I don't know if I can make that choice.

I'm also torn about whether to take him to the vet at all. If it is the end, should I stress him out with the whole cat carrier/car/strange place/strange cat smells ordeal? Or should I let him go out peacefully at home? Or give him the peaceful, painfree exit? What if it's something that we can manage with medication, though? What if I can keep him around for a few more years? I'd never forgive myself if I lost that opportunity.

Why don't they tell us about all this when we get these innocent pieces of fluff? It's so hard to carry the absolute responsibility for another being's life.

The funny thing is, I didn't even like Shelby when I got him. I was just doing my friend a favor by keeping him for her for a year. Eleven years on, and the strange little non-cat has wormed his way into my heart. And I didn't even know it.

Update: I decided to take Shelby to the vet Saturday, 4/1, when he seemed to be wobbly on is back legs. He was severely jaundiced, and his beautiful pale blue eyes were green. The vet felt his liver was very enlarged, with a growoth on it, and another growth near it. The prognosis was poor, even with thousands of dollars thrown at him. Which I gladly would have paid. Or found a way to pay. Somehow. But when the vet started pushing euthanasia, I knew there was really no hope. And so I made the hardest decision I've ever had to make in my life.

I hope I gave Shelby the beautiful a good life. I hope he enjoyed living with me and Buca. He was not a very affectionate cat, but occasionally he'd come to me for pets. I wonder if a few weeks ago, when he climbed up on the bed and hung out, maybe he was telling me something?

I feel incredibly guilty, but I hope he is at peace, without pain, and able to have whatever joy and happiness he wants now.