Feline Ethical Hedonist

My cat Lewis died today.  We got him six years ago, a blind, rotund creature who wandered about bumping into everything.  We worried that he would struggle to settle in, find his litterbox, figure out the layout, but Lewis managed wonderfully right from the start.

He was an utter failure as a majestic predator.  He loved to go outside and sit on the lawn at the cottage sniffing the air while birds and squirrels wandered 50 cm away from him.  I don't think he understood that they were there at all, but I can't quite say why the wild creatures were so willing to hang out near him.  I suppose they sensed his inability and disinterest in chasing them down.  Most cats like to hang out on high perches trying to look fierce and independent.  Lewis liked to do this:

His favourite thing was to lie on his back in a sunbeam with his paws in the air, begging for a belly rub.  Unlike other cats it wasn't a trap - he loved attention and would chirp and purr happily if you stopped by to get some cat tummy time.  This cat knew how to be an ethical hedonist, no doubt.  He loved snuggles and would happily fall asleep on your chest, snoring very softly away.  He trusted everyone right away, and would happily sit in the middle of busy rooms with people walking all about, even those he didn't know.

This fall he got deadly sick and we found out that his kidneys were failing.  There is no cure, but after the vet got him stabilized we brought him home and began giving him daily injections of fluids because he stopped drinking water entirely.  We knew we were just buying time against the inevitable, but we wanted to give him all of the good days he could have.

This weekend he ran out of good days.

The looming prospect of euthanasia was a tremendous struggle for me emotionally.  I see myself as my family's protector, a physical shield against all the dangers of the world.  To take him to a place where stranger would kill him is a terrible thing to face, and it was made much worse by the fact that due to covid only one of us could be with him at the end.

Normally this sort of thing Wendy would do.  She was the one who was there when Pinkie Pie came out of surgery and only one of us could be there... but I needed this.

I needed to be with him because even though I can no longer protect him from death, I will still protect him from suffering.  I needed to be there so he would know, as he died, that he was not abandoned, and that he was loved.  When he died I fell apart for awhile, and his wonderful soft fur soaked up my tears.

Now Lewis is dead.  Not gone entirely, of course, so long as we remember.  I will remember him as being the worst of the deadly hunters... and the best of the cats.