... went into a rapid decline this week, and I took her to be put down tonight. It was very quick and gentle. She would have been 17 in February, so I had a clear conscience about the whole thing. When it happened, it was very clearly the right thing to do.
I adopted Smudge after my father died, and she found herself lonely in a house full of boisterous dogs. She had been a very loyal companion to him - they were both quite content to sit together for 18 hours a day, every day, pausing only to have him feed her small dishes of mayonnaise. It was terrible for her digestion, but they both enjoyed it.
She was very good to the Wuzzle - ideally, every child should live with an animal who is gentle and understanding, but not infinitely tolerant. They were very fond of each other, and I'm glad that my father's cat was friends with the grandson who he would have liked to have known.






