Several weeks ago I noticed that Tory's purring changed in depth and timber. He was also slowly loosing weight, although I could only tell because I picked him up every morning into my lap while at the computer before leaving for work. Monday he didn't eat enough for me to tell that he had eaten. Tuesday and Wednesday were the same (Fuzzy eats different food, which Tory wouldn't touch). I thought I felt a hard lump in his throat, but was unsure.
Thursday morning I took him to the vet. She confirmed that he had a restriction growing along his windpipe that was squeezing it shut. Thus, the change in his purring/snoring (he was working hard to breathe) and probably the culprit for his not wishing to eat. It was a hard mass along the full length of his windpipe, and there was no way they could remove it. My choices were to take him home and watch him decline for the next couple of weeks before putting down, or let him go then.
I had already prepared myself over the last couple of days (hoping for the best, fearing the worst) and had spent extra special time the previous night and that morning - I held him as he drew his last breath on the examine table.
This is the most at peace I have been with helping a furry friend to the end. I didn't wait too long as I did for some, circumstances didn't force the decision too soon as happened with others, I had the opportunity to help as I didn't get to for a couple of others. He went before his struggle became a burden.
Pictures taken 6/22 and 6/23
He looks remarkably good for a 16 year old cat who had, at best, 2-3 weeks to live. I miss my lap kitty, but know it was for the best.
Rest easy my friend.