My friend's cat (Ba) passed away last night. She needs support.
Basically the title. She doesn't have the energy to use social media so I'm posting on her behalf (yes I took her permission). I'm gonna send screenshots to her so please send all the love and support you can in the comments. She's going through a really tough time right now.
She asked me to share this with everyone:
My beautiful baby cat passed away at three and a half years old.
He was having breathing problems, the vet diagnosed him with constipation. Despite medicating him, getting an X-ray, and taking him for daily check-ups, his breathing was not improving.
On the 4th and final day, he waited to be strong until I came home from work. He looked at me and just sat down, trying his best to breathe and shaking. I got so concerned I couldn’t just sit there and let him go into my closet and suffer. I took him in his carrier for a second opinion and he started crying for the first time, noises I’ve never heard and can’t get out of my head. We somehow ended up at his primary clinic, and when he went down for the X-Ray, he was gone. CPR couldn’t even resuscitate him. We buried him in his favourite shirt of mine and a white scarf in my garden under his window.
The guilt has been eating at me, I keep feeling like it’s my fault and I could’ve saved him.
Basically the title. She doesn't have the energy to use social media so I'm posting on her behalf (yes I took her permission). I'm gonna send screenshots to her so please send all the love and support you can in the comments. She's going through a really tough time right now.
She asked me to share this with everyone:
My beautiful baby cat passed away at three and a half years old.
He was having breathing problems, the vet diagnosed him with constipation. Despite medicating him, getting an X-ray, and taking him for daily check-ups, his breathing was not improving.
On the 4th and final day, he waited to be strong until I came home from work. He looked at me and just sat down, trying his best to breathe and shaking. I got so concerned I couldn’t just sit there and let him go into my closet and suffer. I took him in his carrier for a second opinion and he started crying for the first time, noises I’ve never heard and can’t get out of my head. We somehow ended up at his primary clinic, and when he went down for the X-Ray, he was gone. CPR couldn’t even resuscitate him. We buried him in his favourite shirt of mine and a white scarf in my garden under his window.
The guilt has been eating at me, I keep feeling like it’s my fault and I could’ve saved him.