My cat died today. I took him of the streets. I kept him. He slept in a warm dry place away from the cold outside. He was getting fatter. And the vet said the blood tests where negative for renal failure etc. The ultra sound said he was fine. Everything was ok. He was just dehydrated because he was living on the streets. And declawed so he couldn't catch anything to eat. We where so excited to watch him gain weight. He came to us 5 pounds 2 ounces. A very skinny unhealthy and older cat. And today when my friend came to visit she said there must be something wrong with your cat. He looks like hes dead. And he was sleeping. I brought him out and he was just tired but moving and ok and meowing. And then he wouldn't drink...or eat... and he was peeing in his bed. And I held him in a towel as he convulsed and cried and faded. Until he looked at me, and stopped breathing. And now hes gone. And I can't stop thinking about him. My first cat. He was supposed to get better. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. =[ Im so confused. What did I do wrong. Why did it happen like this. All these things where rushing through my mind. Despite being the girl I am. With the education and maturity I have. There was this little girl inside of my wishing he would get up and meow at me. Or look up at me and be ok. Maybe hes just sleeping. Maybe ill do something and he'll come back. But I know he won't. Hes lying there. Eyes dull and sunken. Rigid. Lifeless. Cold. And yet I take some comfort in knowing that he died here. In my arms. AS I pet him and whispered to him how much I loved him. That it was going to be ok. And that he didn't die alone, lost, on the street, with no home, and no family, and no one to hold him. I loved him. I miss him. It breaks my heart to know hes gone. To sit and see his collar. no longer around his neck.

Im tired.