In a bad way once more, and I'd guess that it's near terminal now.
Can't walk at all, legs failing in all directions. He can't even sit. Have to carry him to litter tray and hold him upright while he does his business, then carry him back to kitchen top where he's currently lying and trying to sleep. Looking confused as though he doesn't recognise his home and doesn't seem to recognise me, even while I'm stroking him and whispering his name - and when my 'waterworks' opened up fully. I'm wishing he'd now just slip away peacefully rather than having to take him to the vet in the morning with him having to face the physical ordeal of it and my hearing the practically inevitable suggestion. Sad beyond measure - and, yes, I'm fully aware that most of us have to go through this and that my pain is no greater than anyone else's. Still hurts like hell though.
If I may indulge in one more justification for spilling out my emotions. Apart from you, dear blogpals, I have no one else in the world to talk to about it. Some of you may well be in the same position, I don't know. But if there's not only me who's alone we are definitely in a minority.
My sister, now 79 and a three-times over great-grandmother, is sympathetic, bless her, but (possibly arising from her steadfast Catholicism) when it comes towards compassion for suffering, she's one who puts animals a distant second to humans, even if their plight is human-induced. They are far more precious to me than that and I know that a lot of you will know what I mean.
I'm grateful more than anything for everybody's moving and kind thoughts and concerns. There's really no need to comment any more here, at least not until I post again tomorrow about what happened.
Thank you from my sad and tormented self, dear friends.
1 hour ago