Warning. This column is not for anyone who does not own, love or understand animals.
(Anyone who writes me and tells me I am nuts will upset me even more.)

Today I was truly a fully-grown, mature, ripened adult. I had to have my pet euthanized, or as they say it "put to sleep". It's not sleep. Sleep, you can wake up from, hopefully refreshed and rip roaring and ready for the next day. My fifteen-year-old "baby" is gone and I cannot get him back. Is he in a "better place"? I hope so, but he's not home with me, damn it, and that is not MY definition of a better place, no matter how you describe it.

For 15 years now, his major concern has been greeting me at the door, getting the prime spot on the bed, eating more food than his sister and seeing how many treats he could get out of me in a twenty-four hour period. Occasionally in the past two years he would have an accident on the floor and I would have the joy of calling him "piss head" for a week. But a few months would pass and I would not worry about it. I learned to put plastic on things and cover them with comforters just to save me the hassle ... I mean this was the only baby I had!

Two months ago it got bad. Really bad. But it happened shortly after he and I had a run in with a pit bull and he had just forgiven me for somehow breaking his tail in the front door after an unsuccessful escape attempt during a thunderstorm. (Cat + door + long tail = ouch!) But he did not seem in pain. He was his usual flirtatious self ... two tonnes of furry flirtatious fun. Thursday night I came home to the Amityville Horror. There was not a single surface in the apartment he had no peed on or bled on. I knew I had to make that decision that no pet owner wants to make it was time for me to say goodbye to the best pal I had ever had.

It was a long night. I figured he deserved his "death row meal" --- a can of smoked salmon and a can of tuna that he and his sister enjoyed together. He knew he was sick, but my darling Nikko was there for US BOTH. He slept in my lap all night on his blanket until I could call the vet in the morning. He sat beside me while I dressed (again, he knew) and I wrapped him in a towel so he would be warm. He meowed as always (not a car lover) but sat in my lap all the way to the vet: at least he was brave, I was a wreck...I knew I was about to sign the death warrant on my best (furry) friend.

Forever the ladies' man, he proceeded to flirt, play, purr and rub all over the veterinary technician and the vet herself. So well looking but so sick inside. I wanted to scoop him up and take him back home right then and there. I signed the papers: did I want some more time with him? No, I could not --- I just had to hug him, kiss him and tell him I was sorry, I would miss him and I loved him. Then I paid my bill, went out to my car and broke down. I had just killed the one creature that always loved me unconditionally.

When I got home and went to open the front door, I realized that from now on, Nikko would not be there to greet me like he always did. No longer when I slept on my side would he be there curled up beside me wanting me to rub his belly. I wanted him back. I was regretting what I did. I know how sick he was, and what if I had spent the thousands on anti-biotics and let him live a few more years? (Would it be just as hard to let him go then -- or would it be so awful to come home and find him dead in his basket one day after work?)

I am watching Zuki, Nikko's littermate and skinny twinny walk around lost and confused looking for her playmate and I cannot explain to her where he is, what and why I did what I did or why I am upset and working my way through boxes of Kleenex. She is probably thinking, " I am sure Nikko will be back soon, but...." "Coooool, sheets on the bed tonight instead of the sleeping bag that was getting rolled up every morning so it couldn't get peed on! And yeah! I get to sleep with Mum tonight on her pillow!"

Euthanasia is supposed to be humane. I think it is for the animal. NOT the owner. We get to sit home after and suffer guilt and grief and look at photos and wonder "why?" I have cried less when relatives have died. I think that big guy who is supposed to be up there in the sky has some explaining to do. This is cruel and unusual punishment: we all die but sometimes the wounds are a little too deep to be called compassionate, humane or merciful. Time will tell --- all pet owners have been or will be there --- it is a cruel world when you love a furry friend so much