Goodbye, Sweet Grendel

We had to say goodbye to Grendel today. He was quite ill and clearly in some pain. We got help from several great vets, and ultimately we ended up at St. Francis Animal Hospital for an ultrasound, and Dr. Smallwood and her staff helped us. Here he is awaiting ultrasound.

After the ultrasound it became clear that the only merciful treatment was euthanasia, and Dr. Smallwood and her staff helped us again, and as far as those things go, it was the best of all worlds. We had a room to ourselves with cozy chairs, and we sat in there with Grendel for thirty of forty-five minutes. The Professor held him and pet him, and I pet him some too, and Grendel was purring and restful and at the most ease he’d been in a couple of days, and he already had an IV so they just put the shot in there, and he peacefully drifted away.
Our hearts are heavy now, which is true when any pet passes, but especially so with Grendel. He was the sweetest cat I’ve ever seen. He was so affectionate, so anxious to be pet that he would come up and rub himself on your shoe or foot while you stood or sat. Such a love. Here he is cuddling with his brother, Meph.

The Professor got these two almost fifteen years ago, kittens. Despite their very different appearances, they were littermates, and they do have the same green eyes and affectionate streak. Here’s Grendel in better days, enjoying his favorite slant of sunlight.

One of Grendel’s most endearing traits was how he would sing over his captured toys. Whenever he’d kill the pink fuzzy thing or fabric mouse, he would carry it around in his mouth and sing a song of his great conquest, a series of very loud meows, each slightly different than the last. Almost like Beowulf composing a song of his heroic feats in battle, instead of like his namesake. We’d try to capture it on video, but every time we came into sight, he would stop, drop his conquest, and trot up for love.
We miss him. A lot.