After many more attempts to get Zero to eat or drink and watching him try to stand on his own and fall over, we decided ( it took hours of deliberating) that Zero would benefit most if we let his spirit soar that night. I didn't want his body to feel what starvation felt like, but he wouldn't eat. I know he was purring, but I think cats will purr to cover up pain and to help relieve stress and pain. I can't say that he didn't feel any pain in the end, but I wanted him to go while I still thought he might be happy and not suffering horribly.
We took him up to the vet just before their closing hour. This is when they perform this type of operation. It allows the pet and pet owner to spend time together and not feel rushed.
We put Zero up on the table, wrapped in the towel he had been sleeping in all afternoon. The vet sat across from us talking to us for a little while while we stroked Zero and talked sweetly to him.
After a while she asked if we were ready and we reluctantly nodded. She left the room. I could see a reflection in the open glass door leading to the operation room where the vet and vet tech were making preparations and I saw the vet tech crying and wiping her face with tissue. Then I began to hear the soft sobs she was letting out.
Jaywon and I could tell how much everyone, not only us, loved Zero and how he affected all of our lives.
We rubbed and massaged Zero as the vet returned with some shots and a machine to allow us to hear his heartbeat. She asked us if there was any last words we would like to say and I thought. There wasn't anything I could say to Zero now that I hadn't told him one hundred times each day as we lay together. So I leaned in and kissed his back and told him I loved him.
The vet told him to go well in Korean "Jal Gayo".
Then she gave him the shot to put him into a deep sleep.
I continued to rub him and caress him and tell him I loved him.
We love you, Zero. Your life touched us in an incredible way. Now go play in the catnip fields!