On December 5, 2016, I had to say goodbye to a good friend and family member for the last 12 years, my cat, Stripey.


He had what I felt was the perfect mixture of personality and personable nature. He loved so many things - my wife and I, watching birds through our large kitchen window, chasing drinking straws, his stuffed mousies, corks, cat naps on throw pillows, pestering his sister, chasing his brother and sleeping with his head on my lap.

He had some stomach issues for the last year or so, and suddenly fell ill on Saturday, December 3, and declined steeply on the 5th, when we took him to the vet.

He always hated car rides, but this time, he quietly watched me driving the car from inside his carrier.

When we arrived, he began getting stressed and started panting and struggling to breathe.

Diagnostic blood work was performed, and the vet determined he had massive internal bleeding. The vet stabilized him on oxygen, and was really straight with us, saying he likely had lymphoma and a stomach tumor that had ruptured and would die without blood transfusion. Given the fact that he had barely enough healthy blood remaining to keep him stable without oxygen, and surgery and chemotherapy would just make him miserable and prolong his life for purely our benefit, we opted to let him go. The vet administered a sedative and anesthetic, and he passed away quietly, laying in my lap.

We're going to miss him dearly.