Last month I noticed that my little orange cat wasn't eating as well as usual. Nothing else, but being the paranoid mommy I am, after a day or so I brought him in to work for some tests. By the end of the week I had the answer - pancreatic carcinoma, already metastasized to his liver. When even the oncologist's only response is, 'wow, that's a crap disease,' you know you're in trouble.
He rallied at first, with some basic supportive care, but when I got home this weekend I realized he had taken a major turn for the worse. This morning when I woke up, and saw how he was breathing... It couldn't wait any longer. I took him into work before my shift started, and did the only thing I still could to help him.
Goodbye, Tristan. My peanut gallery, my weirdo, my wall-licking strange orange beast. You were awesome, and I love you.
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