I had already decided that today I was going to walk into my vet's before work and say it was time for Zoe to go to the Bridge.
I fed the other two, got her out from under the bed. I could see she was drooling. There was blood in it.
Gently wiped her face down with a tissue, gave her her meds in water. When I let her jump down from my lap, she went behind an opposite chair and her back legs slipped from under her, though she recovered.
She's not the Zoe we knew.
No meeping and meowpring at Cole in the bathroom in the morning, no begging for attention and affection. No sleeping on the bed after turning around and getting all the pats and head rubs she wanted. No tummy rubs.
No head butts with Oscar and grooming his face.
There's been the occasional cheek rub against a lower cupboard or wall when her meds have kicked in.
It's time.
I work today but am going in early, and my vet is open late.
I'm so sorry Baby Girl. I am so sorry this happened. I love you, Zoe.
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