I had to put Aggie to sleep tonight. She came out from her sleeping spot to get water, then she tried to jump on the cushion to get up to the window, and she fumbled. And then her back legs wouldn't carry her anymore and she was meowing. I panicked but knew I couldn't make her suffer and wait.
Jan 16, 2026 05:55God's been very "you get what you need" with me and death. I picked a random day to take off from work, and that's the day dad dies. So I was here, he wasn't alone. And all this with Aggie happened this evening...I was here. She wasn't alone as her legs failed her. She wasn't alone.
I was also given several above average, sunny and warm days after the initial diagnosis to let Aggie be outside and roll around and sleep in the sunlight outside the door. It felt normal. She deserved that. I kept wanting it to stay normal.
Aggie's papers say we adopted her from the local cat coalition in 2013, and that she was supposedly 3 months old at the time.
I kissed her head for the final time tonight. And I'm up, typing all this out because I'm alone now, and I don't want her to actually be gone. I love you Aggie. I miss you.
