Walking down the hill, I know what’s going to happen. Part of me is still in denial. Maybe she’s doing better? Maybe the vet has a new idea? Maybe there’s a cure to getting older? I know it’s not true. I know I’m walking my 16-year old cat to her last vet appointment. I feel like a horrible person.  

Renal failure is a funny thing compared to other internal organs. Our kidneys filter all the trash out of our blood stream so when they aren’t working the trash piles up. In people, renal failure is treatable by a variety of measures all the way up to kidney transplants. In cats – hydration and hope is the standard treatment.

Extreme measures like regular fluid therapy and supplemental dietary changes could have extended the amount of time I had with Bryn. At the cost of her prolonged agony and deteriorating quality of life. I could be selfish and let her live another 6 months of half-life, putting on a happy face and sleeping next to me while stewing in a septic brew of disease.

I chose to end the pain. Just because a cat can live through something doesn’t mean she should. There was no happy ending. She was not getting better and every day I denied that was one more day I regret putting off the hard decision. 16 years is a good, long life. She will be missed.