It turns out that all that pooping in the tub was a sign of more serious matters. I think we knew this already. That's probably why it took as long as it did to take him in to the vet. Today, we made the difficult choice.
We are animal people. Our animals are our family. And, Bailey was our first. Taylor was six years old when we got Bailey. 9/11 hadn't happened. And back then, I had no idea how much I could love a crazy ginger cat.
We adopted Bailey from Pet Helpers. The poor buddy had no bottom lip. When then went to neuter him, they discovered he had no testicles. (huh?) He had asthma. He had some kind of dry skin condition. And in the sunset of his life, he was obviously in some kind of pain from a mass in his belly. But, oh, in between all that, how he lived!
He was the King of our house. He was the hisser. He was the little kitty who would step on my belly while I lay in the bath tub. He climbed the Christmas tree, the chimney and trees outside. He chased lizards. He let all the newcomers to the house (and there were four that followed him) know that he was large and in charge. And I loved him with all my heart.
So, here's to Bailey Boy. Thank you for bringing so much to our lives for these twelve years. I will forever miss you. xxx
(Thanks to Steven for these wonderful photos)