Right before Christmas, I was petting Rowan, and I felt a lump in his side. We took him to the vet and had our worst fears confirmed. It was cancer. The doctor said that the lump was a tumor that was taking over his right kidney and he also had metastatic spots in his lungs.
The good part, he'd said, was that the cancer was painless. But there would come a time when his systems would start shutting down. But until then, we should take him home and enjoy our time with him. We did. A lot. He remained as loving and sweet as ever, but as the tumor grew to softball size, it became more difficult for him to move around. We had to help him up onto the couch so he could sit by us.
Yesterday, he stopped being able to process food and we knew it was time. We brought him to the vet and said goodbye to him last night. I'm going to miss my elbow nibbler and hair stylist.
We took him in when he was about 4 weeks old. He'd been found wandering on a super busy four lane road. Thankfully, some kind soul rescued him before he was hit. We got him a week after Killian's first birthday. Rowan turned 16 in August.
I miss you, Fangula.