I haven't blogged in awhile. I was hoping to be in a better place before I posted this. That better place seems to be eluding me though. On Sept. 2....my beloved Little J suffered a stroke. All indications at that time were that it was a minor episode and that he would recover within a matter of days. On the morning of Sept.3, I realized that the stroke had blinded Little J. He was still strong and eating and using his litter box when led to it, and most of the websites I found on feline strokes said that the blindness was temporary. From the time of his stroke, Little J began to do what I call wandering. He walked circles around the house. He walked until he became trapped someplace and when rescued...he would begin to walk again. He would not or could not lay down or still himself. By the morning of the 4th, he had regained his voice. He was on a path to wellness I thought. But the constant wandering was still there. I bought a pack 'n' play for him to keep him safe when I couldn't watch over him. He would wander around it and cry. I got very little sleep. All day that day and the day after. He was wearing himself out. By Monday the 6th, he was completely exhausted, and when I laid him down on his pillow for what I thought would be a 15-20 minute nap, he didn't struggle. I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes. When I opened them again...it was an hour later and Little J was still asleep. Finally, I thought and closed my eyes again. I woke back up a half hour later. Little J was still on the pillow. I went to check on him, pulled his blanket back and it looked like he was having some kind of seizure. Like he was running in his sleep. I couldn't get him to wake up. My heart sank. I knew that was it. He was not going to get better. I took him into the emergency vet to have him euthanized. He did not wake out the entire trip. He only woke up when they stuck the iv into his paw. His breathing was rapid. He was hyperventilating. They gave him to me to hold and calm down. Once he was calmed they gave him the shot. It was over in a matter of a minute. He arched his head up to my neck and took his last breath. All I could think of, was the day he was born. How he crawled up to my neck for warmth and comfort. I don't know how long I held him after that. Not nearly long enough. It would never be long enough. He was my buddy, my baby, my life....for 17 years and even now...almost 2 weeks later...it doesn't seem real or possible that he is no longer here. Every day...I go through the motions of life..waiting for that moment when I stop wondering, stop worrying, stop obsessing. I don't think you ever get to that point. It doesn't feel like it yet anyway. Now I deal with Tuffy. Who doesn't understand where his best friend, his bubby has gone. I try to create a new normal so Tuffy can let go and heal too. We're getting there..a little bit more each day. Baby steps. I miss him still. I miss him so much. I feel broken. Like a piece of my soul has broken off and can never be returned. I hope it gets easier. God it has to get easier. I love you Little J.