Patches, one of the cats which call my home their home too, died yesterday sometime after I left the house.
He's been seriously ill for a few weeks already. First, his appetite decreased and he increased his water intake. And then he showed signs of a skin condition and a big reduction in weight. Anna had a vet check him out and I've been giving the cat a medicated bath daily plus medication, as per doctor's orders. Patches began to appear as if he was recovering a few days into the medication... but that was only until I noticed that he started becoming constantly disorientated and losing his balance while walking to his food and to his water bowls. It was all downhill from there.
Yesterday morning, I observed that Patches was struggling to walk for his daily morning greeting. He was so quiet, sun-bathing. He came to the food bowl but didn't touch his food. I realised that the end was near, alarmingly near. That made me worried and sad but I thought I'd still see him in the evening when I arrived home.
But no. When I got home, there was no cat running over from the garage. No meowing from the laundry area. The welcome party that I had come to look forward to every night wasn't there. I was met only with silence.
Patches had passed away on the garden where I had seen him in the morning, sun-bathing.
Good bye, guardian of the labada and of the car windshield. I know your healthy in cat heaven now.