Yesterday, we had to put Twinks' cat, Tanner to sleep.
As hard as it was, there was no other decision to be made. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that even with surgery, there was no way the poor little guy could have survived for much longer. It was evident, even to a non-professional like me. He had not appeared to be in any pain at all - even the vet was surprised at how calm he was, and how despite his advanced condition, he was still his usual sweet little self.
He slipped away easily, and with no fuss; I held him, wrapped in one of The Wrench's old shirts. The vet, and even the techs who worked there, stayed with us; we talked, laughed, and cried together. I tried to make sure that he knew we loved him, and that he wasn't alone.
And then I had to go home, and tell my sweet little girl. I had to try and find the words to explain to her *why*. I had to help her remember that Tanner had a good life with us; certainly better than his original destiny. I had to hold her while she sobbed, and cried, and wished for one more chance to hug her sweet little grey cat and tell him goodbye.
Sometimes, being The Mommy just sucks.