Farewell you handsome goof

at home under Eiger & Mönch

A few days ago I was thinking to myself that he probably won’t make it through another year. He’s been struggling for quite a while now. He hasn’t been himself basically ever since his mom left us. Not even a younger partner in crime and kids could make it better. Well, the later might have had the opposite effect.

But I didn’t quite expect this turn of events.

You tell yourself that surely it must get easier with each one you let go. Being in the position of deciding “when” and making that decision, is a truly awful position to be in. Even when you’re not alone in making it and even when we all immediately knew what, why, how.

And I know now, that it doesn’t matter at all whether the decision grows slowly or it’s basically thrust in your lap by someone else. I really was hoping it would be easier.

But as long as there’s that: “We could do an operation…”, and you rationally know a massive operation at this age would only prolong the inevitable…

It doesn’t get easier.

So, farewell my handsome ball of fur, my bag of fleas (don’t think for a minute I forgot about those).

You were never old. You were always just a goofy kid and even if you obviously didn’t like human kids too much (and most humans in general), you tolerated them extremely well. You were perfect in every way.

It was a pleasure from your very first to last minute. You’re again in your favorite company.

So long and keep exploring. Both of you.

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