RIP Mr Smelly

We took Tom to the vet this morning. We were both up into the early hours, worrying and fretting about the decision. I don't think either of us wanted to go to bed without being so weary that we'd immediately pass out with exhaustion, and that's how it was for me - poor Kim lay awake in the early hours worrying.

It's funny how you get into little routines, and this morning followed the usual pattern of Kim heading down, feeding Tom, giving him his arthritis medicine. He cleaned out the litter box and filled it with clean litter, he put down a large bowl of fresh biscuits as if we'd all come back from the vet and Tom could just pick up from where he left off.

I felt strangely calm this morning; knowing I would have to drive there and back possibly helped, but as I opened my eyes, I knew it was the right decision. The only thing I regret is that Kim didn't have that much time with Tom after getting home so late on Friday night.

As is always the case with Tom, he was contrary to the last. He woke up this morning looking better than he had for ages, ate like a horse and even managed to walk around the garden for a few minutes - none of which made Kim feel any better. We agreed, though, that it would be better for Tom to go like this than in a state where he couldn't stand and was 'doing an exorcist' from both ends, as he has so often lately.

I think we have the best vet in the whole of Somerset. Janet Byrne, at The Oakapple Surgery in Ilminster, has known Tom for ages now and I think we're collectively responsible for any excess pounds the delightful lady carries (though if she does, it doesn't show); Tom has never taken kindly to having his claws trimmed and would always try to slash Janet with his long claws or bite if he could get at any flesh and generally be a very cantankerous old geezer. Kim and I would regularly ply Janet and her staff with chocolates, for their patience and gentle handling of Tom, when other less capable vets wanted to anaesthetise him just to do his claws. Today, she excelled herself and treated us all with huge compassion.

I can now remember my last sight of Tom as him gently sinking into a sleeping pose, with his head on his paw, looking so peaceful and out of pain that it was a beautiful sight. I shall always be grateful for that. Mr Smelly is no more. My best friend and companion of 18 years has slid peacefully to the Summerlands. I shall miss him dreadfully, but I'm glad he went when he was feeling well enough to give his customary greeting hiss to the vet and after a very fine breakfast.

I had meant to go and get fish and chips for supper last night; I was going to eat the chips and Tom was going to get the fish, only I was in such a tizzy about today that I forgot until I got home... so he got pate instead. The house feels empty without Tom, and I suspect it will feel worse when Kim goes away on Sunday and there's just me here.


Tom and Kim doing the Feline Mind Meld, i.e. "I head butt you, you feed me human!"