My barn cat extraordinnaire had to be PTS this morning. He was only nine years old, and a rescue when he came to me about eight years ago. Frosty was all white with a smudge of a black spot on his nose and big beautiful green eyes. He could climb a tree like no other, was not impressed with being chased by the Wire Fox Terrier. Cat never purred. But when I picked him up to carry him he would wrap both paws around my wrist and hold on.
I found him this morning laying in the rain, unable to use his back legs. I brought him in to the tack room to warm and dry him. He had a little snack, but when he wanted to leave again, he just couldn't. A quick trip to the vet and we found nothing wrong with him, no injury,but he had no feeling in either back leg, nor were there pulses and limbs were ice cold. The vet remarked upon his heart murmur, and guessed that he had blown a clot that lodged in the vein leading to the back legs.
As they prepared to inject him with the anesthetic, he wrapped his paws around my wrist and lay his head on my hand, and then was gone.
That one last hug certainly must have been his way of telling you that he appreciated your gift to him of a life filled with love and the even greater love to let him go peacefully. What a beautiful boy he was.