We never really knew how old he was. He seemed like an elderly cat to me.
He was the gentlest cat I've ever met. He was amazing with the children. He wasn't playful, this old slow thing. He was clumsy, I'd never seen a cat fall over before, but Hector would. He was badly damaged. I don't know what had happened to him, but it must have been bad. He didn't clean himself properly, like most cats do, and he didn't always make it to the litter tray in time. But he was a good cat, quiet kind, and patient. The kids loved him.
On Friday evening we noticed he seemed sick. He was so weak he could hardly walk. I think I knew then he was going to die. On Saturday we took him to the vets. They thought he has been poisoned, or just eaten something bad. They kept him overnight, and treated him for toxic shock, water therapy, and gave him lung and heart medicines. Sunday morning they thought his condition was stable, but he died Sunday afternoon. We was always weak, and maybe to old, he just couldn't recover.
I missed him this morning. He used to come for a stroke when I got up early for work on Monday mornings.
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