My dear cat, Sigge (Swedish name), disappeared two days ago. Today, when I got home from school, my family was sitting in the living room with the cat in the middle, just lying there on the floor. He was alive, but we couldn't make eye contact and he made some odd wheezing noises. My brother, who came home from school before me, had found him near the road where I live. He was very weak and my brother had to carry him home. He hadn't eaten very much in the last few months and he'd become very thin, so we knew this would come eventually.
Dad just drove away to have him killed. Mom's going to call my oldest brother, who's in college in another part of the country, tomorrow and tell him about it.
He was 12 years old.
Rest in peace, little buddy.
