At his last blood test, his numbers were all down a fraction, but not disastrously so and we reasoned that, this not being an exact science, now we had the anaemia under control they'd sort of oscillate between too low and low-normal. We weren't too concerned; we felt we were finally on top of things.
The one concern was that he kept losing weight, although a couple of weeks ago he'd actually put a few grammes on. Then his weight nosedived again and the hospital asked us to take him to the vet and have him weighed and then they were going to admit him and try some kind of enzyme treatment.
He started the week pretty well, but he started to get a bit wobbly on Wednesday evening. Thursday, he didn't want to eat. Bogna took him to the vet's to be weighed and afterwards I gave him a syringe of recovery pate and he settled down for the night. Sometime around four in the morning, he was howling about something and Bogna came down and put him into his cat-bed.
Friday morning I tried to give him some more pate and he wasn't interested. He seemed kind of out of it and very wobbly and I put him on the cat-bed on top of the bed, surrounded by puppy-training pads because his new favourite place to pee was at the bottom of the bed, and went to work.
When I came home in the evening he couldn't stand up and his balance had gone. He just lay in the cat-bed and miaowed a little. I tried to give him a little pate, but he didn't even open his mouth. His ears were very cold, and as the evening went on he seemed to get colder and colder.
He got a lot of cuddles on Friday night, although I'm not sure he knew what was going on. Bogna and I sat and held him and stroked him, and then we put him in the cat-bed and wrapped him up and he just lay there and I sat here beside him and talked to him and about twenty past one he sort of sneezed a couple of times and was gone.
We had, as you know, prepared for this, but it was still a raw time and we didn't get to bed until about four in the morning. We left him in the cat-bed and closed the bedroom door so the other two cats wouldn't see him and be upset, and when Bogna got back from work on Saturday we took Kuron to the vet, who will pass him on to a pet crematorium out in Cambridgeshire, where his ashes will be scattered.
He could be an absolute pain in the arse, one of those high-maintenance cats who don't really want anything apart from attention. He didn't run around and play - the best he did was a high-speed head-down walk - although he did like to knock a ball of silver foil down the stairs and then have you throw it back up to him and he didn't care how tired you were of doing that. Catnip had no effect on him at all, but he derived great joy from howling for no discernible reason until he got us out of bed in the wee small hours. He was quirky and eccentric and rather magnificent and we're better for having known him and poorer for his passing. Here he is in better times.