Merp was my cat. We named him Merp because that was the first sound I ever heard him make. It was the last sound I heard him make, as well.
He died in my arms about fifteen minutes ago.
I'm not sure what happened. He's been sort of lethargic the last few days. I thought it was just standard cat it's-fucking-cold-outside-i'll-just-sleep-instead behavior. Obviously I was wrong.
He slept with me on the couch last night, curled up next to me. About twenty-five minutes ago he woke me up, crying like he was in pain. He couldn't move much. I carried him over to the computer and he laid on my lap while I googled emergency veterinary services here in BFE. Multiple calls to competent, caring, friendly sounding voicemail inboxes. Nothing open on a Sunday. I didn't panic, because they trained me not to.
Then he quit breathing. I wrapped him in a towel and put him inside a contractor bag. I'll bury him tonight, at my ex wife's place.
He was her cat too, for a long time. And she's got a shovel.
Today is broken; I'd like to return it, but I didn't keep the receipt.
I'm so fucking sad it's hard to breathe.