Originally, I was planning on cleaning out my closet since the boys were going camping. They had a grand time, incidentally. Thursday night was the beginning of Keegan's end. It was a long night filled with much discomfort and comforting. He wasn't great, but he was still moving and still eating/drinking. Friday I spent the first half watching him and deciding, the second half doing. He quit eating at midnight. He quit purring at 4am on Friday. Quit drinking around 10 and it was time to leave at 11. After meeting with the vet, I tried to be really upbeat and pretty much had myself fooled even with the nagging feeling, there is more going on than hypokalemia. It's been too long, and too many other things didn't seem right. Friday night I slept fitfully, but jumped out of bed on Saturday morning to get LF dressed and out to Starbucks for our usual weekend jaunt before the camping trip. It was 6am.

They left at 7 and I went about cleaning out the driveway and watering the garden, trying to envision changes I'd need to make over the weekend. We have the birthday party coming and I wanted to get it in good shape. I then went inside and cleaned Ed's bookshelf, the dishes, dusted, mopped, and began taking clothes out of the closet. I'd wanted to lay them out all over the living room, since I didn't have to worry about the guys stepping on them or getting drywall dust/construction junk on them. By 9 the phone rang. They told me Keegan wasn't any better and to come by at 11:45 to "talk". I knew what that meant. I just kept getting clothes out of the closet, drawers, and from under the bed; killing time until 11:45. I was much less motivated to do anything, but kept moving any how. I was simultaneously washing all the linens from where Keegan couldn't get up to go to the restroom on Thursday, and cleaned his litter box for when he came in and would want to use it, still trying to be upbeat.

I went to see him and he looked just like he'd looked when I left him on Friday. I knew he wasn't any better. When I said, "Hey buddy! How ya doing? Do you want to go home?" he whimpered a weak meow and tried to get up. That decided it for me, home he was going. After all, he hadn't really eaten in a week and half, how long could he last? At least he could get away from all the cacophony and cold metal. I took him home, made him comfortable and kept on cleaning up, mending the missing buttons, zippers, etc. on my clothes I'd long since given up on. Then, it hit me; I was trying to make all the old worn out things like new. Keegan seemed peaceful but getting agitated that he couldn't move at all. He couldn't really get comfortable. This went on all night too. He got to the point agitation was too much effort. He was worn out. Sunday, I gave up all hope and came to terms with him dying. I decided what I'd do and then, finally, I'd take him. I decided to put him in the thick box leftover from where I'd donated some sweaters along with his brush and a toy he loved, sitting on top of a clean white towel. I'd donate his uneaten food I'd just brought back from the vet, and throw out his litter box, food bowls, and the scoop. I kept cleaning linens all along. Then I finally decided it was time. We went and I snuggled him, and snuggled him, right to the last second. I saw his stomach quit rising and falling. I lay my head on his soft belly just like a million times before. No more heartbeat. Instead of solace, it was painful. I took him home, put him on the clean towel, in the box, and then threw away all the stuff I'd decided to earlier in the day. I got the food ready, wrote the card, and then got gas along the way to donate the food. We buried him next to Sugar (sissy Susie's kitty) at our family home, and went to eat at Blackstone. It was the first time I'd eaten since half a plate of chicken piccata on Friday. I only slept last night since I took a sleeping pill.

This morning, I'm past feeling every second how much I miss him. I still have moments of it, but more often I am just feeling let down. I can almost talk about him without crying. It still hurts though. Every morning, my alarm clock would go off and Keegan would go out the door. My signal to get up would be when he came back in and wanted to snuggle. So I'd pick him up, smush his face to mine and wrap him in my arms. Being blind, he felt secure like that. He knew where he was. And it made him purr like mad. Begrudgingly to both of us, I'd move him aside, and make the bed. Then he'd sit patiently waiting for me to get done. It used to be he'd try to get me to hold him. Sometimes I would. It's kinda hard to hold clothes and him. In the end, he'd just sit there until I picked him up. And then the day would start. It was a cold morning bereft of snuggling furballs today.