R.I.P. Butler

Butler Small, June 1985 to November 2005

Contrary to the end, Butler did not die in his sleep, so we had to take him to vet this morning to be put down. Once there, he resisted leaving the cat carrier (as the vet observed, "He wasn't born yesterday"), and when the vet tried to get him on his side, Butler hissed at him but good. (No going out with a whimper for this guy.)

The vet was wonderfully gentle and quick, and Butler was gone in a moment; peacefully, too.

We buried him in the back yard near a row of birdfeeders, and can see his final resting place from a number of windows in the house.

We were both very sad to see him go, but ultimately, I think we're both relieved--I know I am. It was hard to see him dragging his wounded carcass around, to see his body shrink down to nothing, to not know how much pain he was in, and to watch the cancer grow on his face.

Last time we had him weighed, he was 6.5 pounds. At his most robust, he was 18 pounds of kitty (see photo). Our furry Orson Welles.

We're going to miss you, but we'll be seeing you later, Butler boy.