Note that this describes the death of a pet.

Concolor (Con for short; I didn't realize how many times I'd be doing Willian Shatner imminations when I named him) showed up on my front porch with his sister a bit less than half grown about nine years ago. This was shortly after I lost a cat, so both I and my remaining cat welcomed them. In the past year he developed hyperthyroid disease and in the past month fluid built up around a lung. He was on three medications and getting better. That is, he was gaining weight, was playful and affectionate and loved the Pill Pockets. Then yesterday morning, he didn't show when I fed the cats. I found him laying on the basement floor, awake but in respiratory distress.

I skipped breakfast and took him to the vet. Who was already dealing with a cat having trouble breathing and a dog which was choking. They told me to leave him. I got a call later that an X-ray showed a buildup of fluid around his lungs. They were going to give him O2 and drain the fluid.

Then came another call: When they administered the anesthetic he crashed and died. The vet did sample the fluid and said it was milky, indicative of a cancer - probably leukemia - somewhere. I actually suspected this, given his thyroid problems.

He went downhill so quickly (he seemed fine the night before) that I am sad he died, but not really surprised.

I still have his sister, Patches, and a younger cat, Nuisance. (She gets into everything.)