Jack 1 month old and Pan
On Monday morning I called our vet and confirmed everything that I already knew in my heart. This would be the beginning of the last week or two of Pan's life. We would need to find him some secure place to allow him to rest, spoil him rotten and eventually when the fluid in his lungs becomes too much, take him into the vet to end his life. So we secured his space, cuddle him often and give him a bottomless plate of tuna every day. Now we wait.
We ask ourselves the question of what we tell Molly and Jack when he finally goes. My vet told us about story books we can read to help them understand what's going on. I did some research online and we may pick one up when the time comes. I know that they probably won't remember him; the way they scolded him when he jumps up on the table, because if they aren't allowed to sit on the table then neither should he, the way the patiently sat there as they tried to "gently" brush his fur or the way Molly would pile stuffed toys and blankets around him because he was sleeping.
Pan was my longest standing roommate, guard cat, judge of character, lap cat and trusty friend. I'm going to miss him so much. There is going to be a lot of imaginary tea in our house this week.