A couple of weeks ago he grew lethargic -- maybe a virus. Nothing the vet could do helped, and we kept going back for more tests, newer medicines. The daily subcutaneous fluids and vitamins perked him up a little, and we hoped desperately that his innate vigor would overcome whatever was making him so sick.
An ultrasound yesterday showed that his kidneys were blocked by either lymphoma or FIP. Either way, untreatable.
Today we let him go.
Farewell, dearest Max. I am sure he is at play somewhere, chasing a spring across a polished floor or crouching on Death's foot (assuming Death has a recliner) before rushing at 90mph to kiss his face.
Also, Death? I know you like cats, But so do we. Leave us a few, OK?