The hardest part about having pets

I wish I had written more about Samson. Being the seemingly healthiest of our pets, he did not give me cause to grumble about repeated trips to the vet. He did give us many opportunities to laugh. He was a bright, trouble-making, kittenish little guy. Out of six siblings he was the only one who did not contract feline distemper, and we thought he was strong enough to beat all odds.

Samson would have been four this coming July. In the past he suffered from crystals in his bladder and we have had him on a special diet ever since. He seemed to be doing well. When Scott and I arrived home from work yesterday, however, we found Samson in pain, crying and not moving around very much. Throughout the evening he drank a lot of water and threw up several times. In hindsight it's hard to believe that we did not rush him to the emergency clinic, but we once had a bad experience there; as a result we have little faith in the care that such clinics provide. We decided to wait and see. We sat with Samson on the sofa for a while and pet him as much as he would tolerate.

We kept Samson in the bathroom overnight with food, water and a litter box. When I checked on him this morning he was laying down, breathing but nothing else - not even blinking. We rushed him to our vet clinic but he died in my arms en route.

Samson was Scott's favourite, there was no denying it. Part of my pain is the loss I am feeling, and part of it is the grief I can see Scott suffering. It's also heartbreaking to witness Trooper's confusion as he begins to realize that his brother (and best cuddle-buddy) is gone. It will take a long time to forgive ourselves for not taking Samson to the vet last night.