Our cat, Oz, died today. I'm very sad. I wrote about him.

Dwayne and I moved into this house at the end of January in 2002.  On February 8th of that year, Neko, a pregnant stray who was living at my old office, gave birth to her kittens.  We brought them home and they've lived with us from that day on.

For at least six years now, Oz has had chronic urinary tract issues.  We've known all along the he would never be fully cured. It's an issue of his anatomy not being quite right. We've tried treating him, though, switching to whatever regiment the vet suggested. We've had him on pills, drops, monthly injections, and special food, sometimes all at the same time.  All of this has bought him--and us--more time, and when his insides weren't causing him troubles, he was living a normal, happy, pain-free, kitty-cat life.

But at 9:30 this morning, Oz's symptoms became life threatening, and Dwayne and I had to rush him to the vet.  There, we had to make the decision that we've known for years that we would one day have to make.

We weren't ready for it. 

We cried a lot. We held him. We kissed him. We told him we loved him. We said goodbye. Dwayne couldn't stay in the room for the euthanasia. For some reason, I couldn't not stay.

I've been sobbing off and on since even before we left today. I can't feel guilty for the choice we made because I know it was the right one. I'm just shocked and wrecked because he's gone.

He was such a personality. So strong, so smart, so obnoxious, so destructive, so funny. He was always getting into whatever he wasn't supposed to. He could even open doors. He hid behind the dryer whenever people would come over. Some of Dwayne's band members (who are over here about twice a week) never even saw him. He would "pet" himself by lying on his back and pushing himself across the ground. He would sniff people's socks and stretch his black lips into a hilarious expression that would make us laugh and laugh. His coat was satiny smooth. He would yawn so big it looked like his jaw was about to snap.  He loved to sleep in open suitcases or burrowed under blankets. His nicknames were Buh-bee, Silky, and Jackass. He was Neko's favorite baby. He was a Ravenclaw. He was our Oz Solo and our Little White Paws. Already, we miss having him in our family, very, very much.

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