My sweet Merlin

He is going to be 12 years old next month, which is mid-sixties for a cat. So he is getting up there in age, slowing down, remarkably becoming more and more cuddly. He is the cutest, as you can see from this current picture of him sleeping on my bed. 

I can’t help but watch him sleep, wondering how much longer I have with him. I know I should just enjoy what’s left of his life, but he’s aging–and scaring the crap out of me to be honest. 

Around 5pm tonight I glance over and see him appearing to be pooling in the corner of the kitchen. I race over and grab him, but no poop to be found. I carry him to the litter box and he collapses on his side, his tongue is out and he is open-mouth breathing and panting. 


So I put a call into the vet and before I get off the phone he has stopped panting and breathing hard. Of course they want me to bring him in, and I oblige, considering it’s 5:15pm on a Friday afternoon. 

2 hours and 4 tests later I emerge from the vet office with no answers, but with a hefty charge on my debit card. It’s his heart, she thinks, just not sure what without more tests. He was acting normal at the vet except for a low pulse. Which is weird for cats at the vet, right? Normally their little hearts are racing, screaming, “get me out of here!!!”

Since he’s been home he hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t had any water either. I am beyond worried, and I’m contemplating sleep myself. I’m exhausted but all I want to do is watch Merlin. Pet him. Nuzzle him. Love all over him. 

I’ve lost one cat tragically before and I’m not ready to lose another. Period. So if you wouldn’t mind saying a kitty prayer as you finish this, we would both appreciate it ❤️ 

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