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Jeremy and Karen,
I'm really sorry to hear about your cat's passing away. It is incredibly hard to loose a cherished pet. It is even worse to witness the moment. Anyhow, I'm really sorry for your loss.
Your experience reminds me of my cat, Sidney. He was jet black with a cute white spot on his neck just above his chest. I loved that 'ol cat! We had this weird 'life-partner' rhythm going on. We could read each other. We did life together. I experienced alot of life and living and Sydney was with me through it all. A silent observer and campanion. He was witness to much toil, pain, and uncertainty, and yes, amid all that, joy and laughter too. When you loose your pet who has been with you through all of that, it is like loosing those years. And even worse, it is loosing the only thing that was consistent in bringing tangible comfort in the midst of life's tempering tempest.
I lost Sydney to a urinary tract infection. It was a Saturday and I was going to work for half the day to pound nails. He had been really sick and i couldn't figure it out. As I walk to the door to leave, Sydney followed me and - this is not an exageration - pleaded with me with frantic meows to help him. I decided right then I would take him to the vet that day first thing when I returned from work and I told him so. And I left.
That was the last time I saw Sydney alive.
I returned from home work eager to get him to the vet. When I walked in, I sensed something was not right. He wasn't there waiting for me (yes, he was a cat not a dog). I began frantically to look for him. Round the corner toward the kitchen and there he was, sprawled out grotescly on the vinyl with a large pool of dark orange liquid (urine) surrounding him. I was shocked. Numb. Cold. And immediately I began to weep unconsolably. Throbbing I went and bent down by him. His face was contorted, his body limp. I called a close couple I knew. They came over to help. All I could do was weep.
I buried Sydney in the field by my parent's house, the house where I grew up. Afterward I sat on the porch for a long while, unable to feel anything but extreme grief, loss, and sadness.
I know Syndey was only a cat. Some would say idol. I say not. Just a friend. And about the truest friend I had during some of the most painful years of my life.
When I visit my parents I think fondly of Sydney. His grave is just yards from a tree by the road down the big hill. Pets are God's gift to us and today, I still miss Sydney . . . | 
