Previously in this column, I described how Algie, our cat, developed a mysterious demon illness last year that culminated in a week-long, sleep-deprived Marathon of Grossness. Ending up in critical care, they ran very expensive tests. Which provided very few answers. (As in, none whatsoever.)

Post-critical care, day 2

Vet: “So, how’re we doing today?”

Algie: “Hate. Woe. More Hate.”

Vet: “I looked over the test results sent over by critical care. Doesn’t look like they found anything.”

Jules: “No, they didn’t.”

Vet: “And you’re not going to do the endoscopy.”

Jules: “No. He’s been through so much already. If it came back positive, he’d have cancer treatment, too. He’s twelve. He’s sick. He’s weak. We can’t do this to him anymore.”

Vet: “So what would you like to do?”

Jules: “Can we treat him for IBD (inflammatory bowel disease) and see how he does?”

Vet: “Absolutely. It’s a six weeks series of B-12/steroid shots.”

Jules: “Ok. Let’s do it.”

**Pulls out giant pink syringe**

Algie: “Ok, wait. Do you hate ME?”

One week later

Vet: “So, how’re we doing?”

Algie: “Why, WHY am I here again?”

Jules: “He stopped throwing up. We slept. He gained a pound. So, progress.”

Vet: “Good, very good.”

Jules: “He’s still super cranky, though.”

Algie: “Put. The needle. DOWN.”

Vet: “…Look, maybe I should teach you how to give these at home.”

Four weeks later

Algie: “Hey. I feel a little better. Can I go outside?”

Jules: “Um, NO. It’s raining and like, five degrees out.”

Algie: “You never let me do anything fun.”

Four weeks, three days later

Algie: “Hey. I FEEL BETTER. Can I go outside, please?”

Jules: “Well, it is sunny and 65. And I’m gullible.”

Algie: “PLEEEEESE?”

Jules: “Okay. Just for a few minutes.”

Algie: “AWESOME!!”

Five weeks later

Al starts lying down in certain spots for twelve hours at a time and doesn’t move. At all.

Jules: “Al, it’s gorgeous today. You want to go outside?”

Algie: “Meh.”

Jules: “You want to play?”

Algie: “Meh.”

Jules: “You want to go to the vet?”

Algie: “…meh.”

Five weeks, two days later

Vet: “So, what’s up, kitty cat?”

Algie: “…hi.”

Jules: “He is NOT right. He doesn’t eat. He barely moves. *sniffle* Is it over? Is he done?”

Vet: “Well, let’s take a look here.”

As the vet checks him over Jules imagines the next sad moments in silence. A last syringe. His breath slowing. His eyes closing. She imagines his still little body lying on the table, and having to decide whether to leave him there or bring him home.

Algie: “Hey. I love you.”

Jules: “SOB.”

It wasn’t really a very hard decision.

To be concluded…