RIP Butterscotch

My first pet, the one I rescued from the animal shelter after saving a summer's worth of allowance in a JIF jar, Butterscotch became mine. And almost 7 and a half years later, Butter passed away.

 Without going into details, he died after two weeks of suffering...only we didn't realize it. We took him to the vet thinking the summer heat had gotten the best of him and made him sluggish and not want to eat unless feed out of our hands/use the litter box, but it was something bigger. We figured that out when he stopped eating altogther, stumbled around when he walked, and couldn't control going to the bathroom, we knew he wouldn't make it through the night. Yesterday night was so hard...he couldn't breathe, was restless, and crying this pitiful, heartbreaking cry. 

The thing that hurt me most was that this was something major, some illness we'll never know, but we could never have helped him. It was only a matter of time. It was all I could do to tell him it was okay to go, we loved him and it was okay. If I said it once, I said it 50 times over the course of the night.

He loved to sleep in the weirdest places...under comforters, on tables, in laundry baskets. 

I can't really explain my feelings right now, mostly because they feel surreal...I've felt this all before with Bullet and to feel it again just a few months later stinks. It's the worst. Two pets in four months, buried right next to each other. I've asked myself why plenty of times. Why couldn't we help them, why couldn't they have lived just a little longer? But I know I'll never know and I'm okay with that.

I love you, Butter, and I'll miss you running up to me, begging me to feed you every couple hours, sitting in my lap during the winter months. You were the most tolerant, loving cat and I will miss you. 

One of the many times we dressed him in old clothes when we got bored.