When I was 18 years old and had just moved out of my parents house into my first apartment, I got a cat. My best friend and I found him in the paper. Yes, it’s been long enough that there were relevant ads in newspapers. He was 4 years old and most importantly – altered, up to date on shots, and FREE. Out of 10 or more cats in this apartment, he was the only cat they were getting rid of. He didn’t get along well with others. Being 18 at the time, I couldn’t imagine the impact that this fat cat would have on my life. I donned him Chubbs and the rest is history.
Fast forward 14+ years, 8 moves (I was an apartment hopper in my college years), a marriage, 3 kids, and a puppy – I had a very old and frail cat on my hands. Not more than two months ago I spent close to $500 on interventions for him. My vet told me at the time that it was probably not going to do any good, but I couldn’t stand to let Chubbs go yet. But on Friday when we ran out of insulin and despite the pain medications he was still unable to jump or walk quickly, I knew it was time to let him go. I said goodbye to one of my best friends. Someone who didn’t care what I did or who I became – who just cared that I was there for him. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life and I still have tears streaming down my face.
So, as a tribute to the sweetest friend I know, goodbye Chubbs. Your family misses you terribly.