With all of the other crapola I've had life dump on me lately, killing my kitty was the one I was the least prepared for.
My cat, Lilith, was almost 11 years old. She's always been a fat kitty, from the day we adopted her from the animal shelter.
She finally went into full-blown diabetes these past months. Lilith left no carpet un-peed upon in our house. (CJ's basement area rug is taking an extended vacation outside until enough Nature's Miracle kills the remaining "Men's Bathroom in a Stadium" smell.)
The vet-suggested insulin treatment course for Lilith would have only extended her life for a little while; and the chances of her going into insulin shock would get very high if we started her on it and then, due to cancer/chemo circumstances beyond our control, weren't home in time to give her the next injection.
The decision to put her down was not one that I felt I could make by myself right now (Thank you, CJ. You are a rock.) I just keep wondering if this will come back to bite me on the butt in the Karma sense...