Time goes so fast; heaven is lost

I found Whitey hiding in the closet when I got home. He never hides like that. He likes to be out where everybody is; he's a social creature. When I picked him up, he did not purr. He always purrs like a buzzsaw just being near somebody. When I put him in front of his food, he turned away from it and retreated into the corner. He always eats voraciously.

He is seventeen years old. I have had him since I was in kindergarten.

I know he has had a long, happy life. He has hyperthyroid, which we have managed successfully for a while. I am sure that has taken a gradual toll on him.

I'm fearing the worst, and hoping for the best. The most painful thing is knowing that right now, I can't do anything, and if his time has finally come, I can't stop that.

If he is not dramatically better in the morning, he is going straight to the vet.