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Clint Beastwood, 1998-2010, RIP cat buddy

This morning when I got up, Clint wasn't able to be comfortable anywhere. His abdomen was much more distended than when I went to bed, his back legs were working poorly. He hadn't eaten for three days, even stuff he wanted to eat he just licked and then turned away from


He was still perky enough for short periods, but he wanted me to pick him up, then he wanted down, then he slept for a while but woke up with a little yelp.
My nephew Tyler is staying at my place for a visit and he sat on the floor with Clint who had flopped over in his direction and petted him but he wasn't really purring, even though he was making the "smiling cat" expression -- he was just in too much pain.

So we took him over to the vet. Got there at 1:10, and Clint was alert but in obvious pain and exhausted.
The vet was very sympathetic; he's known Clint for five years, and he had been the one who diagnosed the cancer last month. After a quick exam he agreed that Clint would not get better and would likely fail in a few days, so he prepared an anaesthetic shot and I was petting him. I could feel when he felt the relief, and then he went to sleep, and then he stopped being attached and was a little confused, and his heart stopped about 20 seconds later. I'm suspecting that he'll haunt the apartment like Faux Paw did for a week or so.

Annoyingly, the shelter that does reasonably priced cremations no longer has a way to get the ashes back.

Gonna miss you, Clint the cat with no name.