R.I.P. Finnigan

After nearly twenty years of life, Finnegan’s failing kidneys made euthanasia the most compassionate option. He made it clear that it was time by meowing day and night over the last 48 hours. It was harder than any of us anticipated. The kids said he was the last thread to their childhood which was a punch in the gut. Finnegan was more dog than cat. He came when you called him. He ate anything and everything. He licked our faces. He even used to play fetch. When I took him out of his carrier and he saw his surrounding–which included his family–he stoped meowing and let us all say goodbye. He purred in my arms as the doctor gave him the injection, gave my nose one last lick, then closed his eyes for good. He was a lover until the end.