Arnold is gone. The vet called, and to make a long story short, he got worse over the past day rather than better. His kidneys had almost completely shut down, even aside from the neurological damage from the stroke. There was no hope for recovery anymore, and it was just...time. So we drove out to the cat emergency hospital/specialist vet place where he was, so I could say goodbye and hold him while they did it. When I saw him I was even surer that it was the right thing to do, the only thing. He was clearly so damaged by the stroke, and barely responsive. He was such a happy cat, so full of life until a day and a half ago; I couldn't make him live like that, even if he could survive. I was so glad to be able to hold him for a while one last time, though, and hold him while they did it. They put us in a room by ourselves (Mr. JaC was with me) with comfortable chairs and lots of tissues, and the vet came in to us when we were ready. And I could tell he knew me, when they gave him to me, and I was so glad of that. He reacted when I stroked him the way he loved. And so he knew I was with him at the end.

But now I'm just...torn apart. I've had a lot of animals, but I've never loved one as much as I loved that cat. And I don't think I will never have another cat who loved me, adored me, as much as he did. Everywhere I look, he's not there.