Losing the fight

It looks like we may lose Merlin this weekend. We have been feeding him meat baby food for the last week and it appeared that he had been eating it, but now we think Isabella may have been finishing it off for him.

He lives under the bed, only coming out at night to use the bathroom - not always in the litter box and not always in the actual bathroom. He is very weak and frail and seems to be having trouble working his hind legs. When I pulled him out from under the bed last night and tried to pick him up, he cried. Not a "hissed-I'm pissed-leave me alone!" cry but more of a "please don't touch me, that really hurts" cry.

Teach got home today and found the same thing. Merlin won't come out and keeps inching under the bed further and further. We have dinner in the city with his family tonight and tomorrow and our vet isn't in on Saturdays. I would prefer that she be the one to do it, as she has been his vet for such a long time.

We tried, we really did. I tried to give him his medication every day - he just hates it so much, it's so hard to do it to him. And then we added more medication and it has just made him so upset. And, honestly, I just can't do it any more. It breaks my heart to feel him struggle when I'm holding him. He's so frail and bony. His bones pop when I pick him up and I can count his vertebrae.

And we tried the baby food, which he'll eat, but it doesn't seem to do any good, especially if Isabella is sneaking under the bed and eating his food when we aren't there.

I always thought that as long as he still purred, he was okay. But that's really all that's left of him. His green eyes and his purr. He seems miserable. And so are we.

I try to tell myself that I didn't fail him, but there's a part of me that thinks I did.