One year and two weeks after we lost our first cat, we lost our second cat today. We had to have him put to sleep, the same as before; he was essentially end-stage advanced urinary tract disease. We’d spent the last two weeks doing everything we could for him.
This was our cat Lucifer. He was 13. We’d also raised him from a kitten. He was a big Maine coon, with six toes on each of his front paws; he looked like he was wearing mittens. He was also the sweetest cat you would ever meet.
Yes, it sucks. It’s like that, sometimes. But at 13, he lived a full, happy, loving life with no complaints; there’s not much more you can ask for.