This morning we had to put Tigger to sleep. He was 19 years old.
He hadn't eaten on his own the last six days. We brought him in on Friday and found out his white cell count was up, his body temperature was down, and his hydration level low. They gave him fluids and antibiotics.
Later that evening Tigger's breathing pattern had changed. It seemed he was struggling with each breath. We kept an eye on him through the night, trying to keep him warm, but there was no change in his condition.
So this morning we brought him back to the clinic, knowing full well the choice we had to make. After more consultation with the vet, and an xray to guide us in our choice, we made the decision that he shouldn't suffer any longer. I called my sister Tessie, who had Tigger originally, and told her the news. She agreed as well it was time to let him go.
I will always remember Tigger as the most affectionate cat I ever knew. I'm am happy that I had the opportunity to be his owner for about 13 of his 19 years of life. His meowing and playful clawing will be missed.