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I wasn't sure where to put this, abut wanted you guys to see it. Lena is near the end looking very clever, and wearing an alien tag as she appears to be driving the car..

My best friend Simon was only 2 years and seven months old. He was an amazing friend and a wonderful cat. I raised him and his three siblings with my ex-boyfriend. We found them at three weeks old, in a shed, their mother and other siblings sadly already deceased. When the boyfriend and I split, I kept Simon and Charlie, my two grey babies. Simon was the closest to me, and the most handsome, kind soul. When I took him to the vet, they had to call in all the staff to come visit him because he was so cuddly, happy, and loving, even to the vet staff. He was almost fearless. He would always try to run outside if he saw the door open, with what my roommates called a "battle cry", a little barking meow that I will strive never to forget. I could look at him from across the room and see his open, friendly face, and just know when he was in the mood to cuddle. I would cross my legs and pat my lap and he would come running to me from the doorway, leap into my lap and curl into a ball. He was my study buddy, my trouble maker, and he was a patient and loving brother to Charlie. He and Charlie would cuddle together, battle each other, chase each other: they were each other's world. I cannot imagine the pain that Charlie feels, as he cries more, sleeps more, and searches the house for his big brother. I feel so much guilt about how Simon died. I took him to the first vet because he had the same issue his brother had had, a bladder blockage. They treated him, and he was much better, but when I got him home, I saw him strain again. I knew this was bad, so I immediately went to take him back to the vet. But when I got there, they had closed for the day, for a staff meeting. I went to their partner vet instead. I will regret this decision for the rest of my life. They kept him overnight to help him pee. The next day, they sent me home with 4-5 medications. I researched them, and a few of them were off-label, but I knew that my regular vet would have the records soon enough, and I could speak to them. My regular vet told me to keep giving him the medications. No one checked his liver function, because was so young and healthy, I assume. The last medication he was taking was alprazolam, which is Xanax, often prescribed off-label as a muscle relaxant and anti-anxiety med for cats. Most of what I read was not scary, so I kept giving it to him. Sadly, I think this is what killed him. One morning, I woke up to find sick on the floor. I suspected Charlie, who would occasionally eat things he shouldn't, and would get sick. So I cleaned it and thought nothing of it. When I fed my guys that morning, Simon avoided his food at first. I followed him with it, and he eventually ate it, so I figured he was fine. Later that night, he was sick, and I saw it happen this time. He started to seem out of it. I called the vet that prescribed the meds and they told me not to offer him food, and to discontinue his meds. I did both, but he was still sick again later. The only vet I could take him to at that time of night was the one that had given him the meds, and I just had a bad feeling about them. I waited until the next morning to go to my regular vet. They were concerned about his intestines in an X-ray but I asked them to check his blood work. They found his liver values were high. They put him on IV fluids and told me he should be able to come home in a few days, on Friday. Friday came and he was worse instead of better. They told me his prognosis was good as long as they could do a biopsy on Saturday and find out what was wrong, and at the same time, they would put in a feeding tube, because they couldn't get him to eat. They would put him on fluids until then and leave him overnight. They wanted to keep him at their vet, even though they didn't have 24 hour supervision, because if they transferred him to the other vet (the same one I didn't like before), they might not be able to do the biopsy/feeding tube. So he stayed alone overnight. The next morning, I got a call. His lungs had filled with fluid overnight, and he could barely breathe. He was on oxygen, but it didn't look good. Even worse, he had developed a clotting disorder, so they couldn't risk doing a biopsy. It was getting time, by what they said, to look at euthanasia. I felt sick. I rushed to the vet and we debated. They said the only other option was to take him to intensive care, at a hospital six minutes away, but I would have to take him myself, and he might not survive the ride because of the stress. I couldn't give up. I had to try everything. On the way to the intensive care hospital, he started panicking, and coughing up fluids, and went into cardiac arrest. When I got him there, they rushed him in. They came out shortly after and asked me if I wanted him to be brought back from arrest. I said yes, without hesitation. He was 2 years old. This couldn't happen. They gave me options once they brought him back. They said one option was, obviously, euthanasia. The other was that they could attempt to stabilize him, which might take days, and if they could stabilize him well enough to do tests, they would then be able to try to find out what was wrong with him, and possibly treat it. Everything sounded so iffy. I was so terrified by the thought of my best friend, my loyal companion, dying on a table surrounded by strangers, a fate I feel no creature would want. And the doctor told me explicitly that once an animal has suffered a cardiac arrest, their chances of having another go way up, and this was a case where his lungs were filled with fluid, and his liver was failing, all making a shutdown of his system very likely. I chose to euthanize him. I feel such insane, brutal guilt over making this choice to try to give my friend a peaceful passing. I hate not knowing what he would have wanted. I wish he could have been able to tell me if he wanted it that way, or if he wanted to try to live. His chances were so slim, but I cannot shake the feeling that I should have pressed on. He was so young, and had been so free and full of life just days earlier. i miss him so much it kills me. I have cried every day since I lost him, and it's been two weeks already. I can't stop crying even as I write this, I feel such guilt and such regret over not going further, or not taking him to that stupid vet who prescribed that medication, which the post-mortem strongly suggests so far was the reason his liver started to fail. I feel like he was cheated. I feel like the vets failed him. I feel like the world failed him. I feel I failed him. I will always love him. He and I had a bond that I can't imagine I will ever share again. It was so pure and comforting. I don't know how I'll live without him, but I know that I have to, if not for me, then at least for little Charlie. In the picture, Simon is the one on the right, his brother Charlie is on the left. Thank you for reading.

This evening I had to let my lovely companion cat, Tilly pass over at the vets and I'm heartbroken. She was a link with my mum who passed away in June 2014 and who's loss I'm still struggling with as well as a link to my father who passed away 14 years ago. She has been with me through the rough and the smooth, always giving unconditional love and asking nothing in return except for food, water, a comfy bed and lots of love and she certainly got that! On the thread about losing my mum I'd mentioned that Till was diagnosed with kidney failure back in March of this year. The vet gave her a maximum of 18 months but she was short-changed with only 7. We fought all the way through with various types of renal diet, many, many visits to the vet. Numerous types of drugs and more recently, giving her subcutaneous fluids at home every other day. Not to mention the trials of getting her to take her pills. With my anxiety, coming home from work was awful as I always worried whether she had eaten during the day. But do you know what? I'd do it all again in an instant if I had to. It cost me lots of money but I often went without if she needed food or drugs. My dear brother paid a large vets bill recently for me and doesn't want it back. The problem is it's not really sunk in yet that she's gone and already I'm beginning to blame myself. This is the first companion animal I've lost since mum and dad passed away and they're not here to offer words of advice. My other cat wasn't that close to Tilly but he is already wandering the house looking for her. I'm having her ashes put into a wooden cat urn and they're going to do a paw print in plaster for me to keep. At least when I always promised her that we are companions for life we will be as I'll keep both in the display cabinet. When its my time I'll ask that her ashes are mixed with mine for burial. I was with her as she went, giving her lots of strokes and kisses and telling her I love her. It was so hard but there's no way I wouldn't want to be the last thing she saw or heard. I've lost cats before but she was something extra special. If you like I'll post a small photo but it's not something I can cope with tonight. Rest in peace now with mum and dad xxxx