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I didn’t give much thought to the decision when I moved into the neighbourhood. The veterinary clinic was a five-minute walk from where I lived, and my neighbour took her dog there and liked it.

I first took Benjy there a few days after getting him from the SPCA. It was to be a checkup, but Benjy had developed an infection of some sort. Dr. Jack Brondwin, the veterinarian, estimated Benjy’s age to be about 14 weeks, commented on how beautiful he was, and prescribed some antibiotics for him. A few days later, Benjy was almost better again.

Until Benjy was about 12, the reasons for visits were mostly routine — vaccinations, allergies, occasional injuries. When his health problems developed, having a good veterinarian to consult with became a lot more important. What are the options and the new developments for treating each health condition? How can holistic and conventional treatments work together? What steps need to be taken when?

When your veterinarian is someone you can discuss all of the above with, the stress of taking care of a sick pet is more manageable. When the veterinarian shows how much he cares about animals and is someone you’ve gotten to know throughout your pet’s life, you and your pet are even more fortunate.

One day, I stopped at the clinic shortly before closing time to pick up some medication. Jack and I got into a long conversation about our personal views on health treatment. While we were talking, I realized that he was probably the person I’d be sharing the last moments of my cat’s life with.

He was. It was an awful time, but having a veterinarian that I knew and trusted provide the final advice for Benjy kept it from being even worse.

Thanks, Jack. And thanks also to all the other caring staff members at your clinic. I hope that other pet owners can be as fortunate as Benjy and I were.

I feel his paws on me as he walks over me on the bed to get to the stepstool, and then he jumps onto it and to the floor. I marvel at how he can walk by himself again.

His legs carry him easily to the kitchen. From the bed where I’m barely awake, I hear his food dish slide on the kitchen floor as he eats from it. It’s loud. And it continues. I should get out of bed to find out if this is just a dream or if I’ll actually see him. I’ve heard of cats appearing in dreams or as ghosts.

Before I can get up, I fall back asleep. And then I wake and remember.

I keep looking over from where I sit at the computer to see how he’s doing. He’s needed help getting on and off the sofa and bed for some time now, even with the stepstools I put next to them.

The kidney disease wasted his muscles. He’d gotten so wobbly when he walked — or sometimes just tried to walk — that I started carrying him between the food and water dishes, the litter box, and his places to sleep. I had to support him when he was in the litter box so that he didn’t fall over. The other day, he rolled off a pillow and became stuck between the edge of the bed and the wall until I saw him and picked him up.

I found him at the SPCA in October 1989. When I took him out of the cage, he snuggled against me, and the bond started right then. The vet estimated his age to be about 14 weeks.

Like all kittens, he was playful. I remember how he’d attack my socks while I was putting them on in the morning. He kept his playfulness as an adult until the last few years, when arthritis limited his mobility.

He used to sit on the sidewalk in front of the house so that passersby would stop and pet him. When they did, he liked to follow them afterwards. More than once I received a phone call from someone calling the number on his nametag saying, “I just stopped to pet your cat, and he followed me home. Can you come and get him?”

One time a neighbour I’d never met stopped by. He was moving, and he wanted to say good-bye to Benjy.

He loved to explore the garden or just sit in the sunshine. His other favourite places were the patio deck and table or anyone’s lap. As stories of coyotes killing cats increased, I wanted to keep him in the yard. For a while, I only let him outside on a long leash. When he wasn’t able to climb any more, we fixed the fence so that he couldn’t get under or through it, and he was able to enjoy the backyard on his own again.

Like many cats, Benjy had a fascination for running water. He used to jump up to the bathroom sink to drink from the tap. When he couldn’t jump any more, I lifted him up to the sink. Eventually I got him a pet water fountain and plugged it into a timer so that he wouldn’t wake me up in the middle of the night to demand running water.

He was about 13 when the health problems started. Kidney failure, liver disease, arthritis, and hyperthyroidism added to the aging process. Still, he did well for a few years. Then he gradually got thinner and weaker. He’d always been very affectionate, but he became more emotionally needy as he became more dependent on me physically. He often sat or slept on my lap while I was working at the computer. At night, he waited for me to go to bed so that he could sleep next to me, and he wouldn’t stay on the bed until I was there.

His kidney disease meant that he had to use the litter box increasingly often. In the past couple of weeks, I got up several times a night, as soon as I heard him move, to carry him to the litter box. He could walk (although barely) once he’d been up for a while, but when he first woke up, he could walk only a few steps. His legs would give out under him, and he’d look up at me in confusion and wait for me to carry him to his destination.

How attached can a person and a cat be? We couldn’t share words, but that never felt like a barrier in our communication.

Yesterday morning, he could barely raise his head. His breathing was sometimes laboured, and he was having difficulty swallowing. He wasn’t at all interested in food or water. It was his time.

I don’t think he was ready to go. I certainly wasn’t ready to say good-bye to him. But his body had given out, and he was suffering. He lay on my lap for hours while I stroked and brushed him until the vet came. Soon after that, it was over for him.

I still keep looking to see how he’s doing.

He wanted down as soon as we got through the doorway, so I put him on the floor after making sure the door was closed. He walked throughout the one-bedroom suite, noting the location of his food dishes, his water fountain, his litter box, the bed, and the stool he uses to climb onto it. He observed that his caregiver (me) was still there. After that, he was fine.

I hadn’t expected him to adjust so easily. Cats are attached to places, and he hates being away from home. But things play a big part in making a place feel like home, for people as well as for cats.

Hanging the clock on the kitchen wall helped make the place feel like home for me. I remember buying that clock years ago. It went perfectly with the kitchen in the old place, and it looks right hanging on the wall at the new place too. This evening, I unrolled the living room area rug. It defines the living room area, but it also helps define home. My cat figured that out before I did.

He’s 16, and he has liver and kidney problems as well as food allergies. The liver problems cause him not to feel like eating most types of food, like how people feel after they’ve had the stomach flu. His weight, once 12 to 13 pounds, has gone down to under eight pounds.

What do you feed an old, sick cat that wants to eat but can’t eat most food? He went off of cat food a few weeks ago. He doesn’t like anything with beef in it. He loves fish, but he’s allergic to it.

The answer: chicken — and dog food. For some reason, lamb dog chow appeals to him. And when I run out of cooked chicken, he parks himself between my computer and the kitchen so that he’ll know when some is ready again.

He may not be getting the perfect nutritional mix for his needs, but my priorities for him are keeping him hydrated, eating, medicated, and happy. At his age and with his health, everything else is secondary.