He waited for me, at least, to get back from Vegas. He'd been getting skinny for a while, but didn't eat at all, apparently when I was gone. Didn't eat really after I got back, either. But at least he spent the mornings with us, and yesterday he spent a good portion of the evening in the living room, as well.
Taking him to the vet was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Made marginally better by the fact that he had lost another pound in 2 weeks (6.5 pounds). At his height, he was twice that.
Bawled and bawled. Still hurts. He had been with me since he was a year old. Through half of college, med school, residency, idiot boyfriends, moves... He was a good kitty, even though he liked to smell people's shoes. lol
Marcy (the 'baby' cat, even though she's almost seven) and I spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, watching Doctor Who, and consoling each other. At least we both got to say goodbye.
So, in celebration of Polo, here's the last two pictures I took of him, taken some time in December.