I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more for you in your final days. I’m sorry you were so fearful of other things and people besides me. I’m sorry for whatever happened to you before you came to me.
Mr. Toomey was put to rest around 4:30pm November 5, 2018. Please understand it was the most difficult decision, even more difficult than Gus. At least Gus was sick, and in obvious decline. This was sudden and terrifying. I’ve had him for a year. I’ve tried diffusers, sprays, catnip, toys, herbal treats, and pharmaceutical medicine. He was problematic from day one, but there was also great improvement. He decided he liked sleeping with me, making biscuits, doing head bonks... cat stuff. However, Sunday’s attack on me was horrifying for me, not to mention painful, and surely confusing for him. And I can’t keep what amounts to a wild animal locked in a bathroom until I get to the source. My vet and his shelter caseworker both agreed it is no way to live for either of us, and it could have been physical trauma, a chemical imbalance, or ptsd. And unlike people, cats can’t tell us. Sometimes the kinder thing is to not prolong their suffering, whatever form it takes. This was not for my convenience. I am devastated.
They are also testing him for rabies. (If you don’t know, don’t ask, if you do know, please don’t say). This is standard procedure involving a bite, however the aggression coupled with some of his other quirks we’d decided were “behavioral” this is a not-zero possibility. I have his vax records back to 2017, but not prior.
Thank you for embracing Mr. Toomey after the loss of my Gus.