Almost fourteen years ago, a coworker came into my office and handed me a tiny bundle. He asked if I’d take care of it till his shift in the warehouse was over, and then he’d come get it and figure out what to do. I took the bundle, and it started purring…the loudest purr I’d ever heard. And I told the man to go back downstairs; the kitten was staying with me.

A few months earlier, I’d found a blond and white kitten in a parking lot. I’d been looking for a cat, and I immediately called my husband and told him God sent me a cat. I’m not sure he thought it God that sent it, but he let me keep it anyway. Sammy was a rough little guy, but we loved him.

A month before the kitten was found at work, I’d gone on a trip. While I was driving to the airport, I saw a beautiful ginger tabby sitting on the side of the highway. I couldn’t stop, but called the city’s animal shelter as soon as I could. They didn’t know anything about the cat, and it was gone when I got back home. I knew that if I’d kept it, I would’ve named it Tango.

When the man handed me the kitten in my office, it was a beautiful, tiny ginger tabby. They said he’d been meowing in an out building for the most of the week, but they hadn’t been able to catch him. He was hungry and very happy to see people. I don’t know if he was dumped, or if he fell out from under a car, or how he got there. He was about six weeks old, and I named him Tango and took him home. Sammy was skeptical but eventually they because friends.

From the first minute, Tango was a cuddler. He wanted to ride around on my shoulder, and every night he needed to snuggle up under my chin before bed. He’d make biscuits and lick the side of my neck till he was done, then he’d usually curl up beside me. Sometimes he’d sleep on my thigh or he’d curl up on my pillow. As he grew, he only became more attached.

Other cats came along: Isabella, who got outside and was never found. Phoenix, the gentle giant who is still with us. Trixie Belle, the spitfire semi-feral who passed away last year. Butterbean, the foster fail who has exactly one though per year and still isn’t sure she likes us. Molly, who believes it’s her goal to groom the world. Allie, who believes she is the center of the universe. Through all of this, I have been Tango’s person. He will share, but he scent marks me constantly, and can almost always be found near me. I recently started letting him in my office, where he has a special window seat so he can sun. He’s usually on my shoulder, though.

A few months ago, Tango got sick. He was having lots of accidents, and they were bad. The vet suggested steroid treatments to treat IBS. And for a while, it worked. He needed a shot every four weeks or so. And then the shots stopped working. I did a little research and found that he met a lot of the criteria for hyperthyroidism, so this week, the vet did a full blood panel. His thyroid is fine. His white blood cell count is the problem – it’s way too high. Without lots more tests, the vet can’t tell me if it’s an infection or if it’s cancer. He suggested an antibiotic for a couple of weeks to see if it helps, So far, Tango feels ok but his stomach is still a mess.

If the antibiotics don’t work, I have two choices: very expensive vets that don’t exist where I live, or basically hospice type care and euthanasia when quality of life declines. Realistically, Tango is blind in one eye, has a heart murmur, has some degree of kidney failure and is 14. Is it work subjecting him to lots of tests when he may only live a short while anyway?

I don’t think I can do that to him. He deserves the most dignified exit I can provide for him. If the meds don’t work soon, I’ll have to make plans. I don’t know how to plan for this. How do I let him go when he’s so important? But how do I not end the suffering either? How do I know when it’s time? I want every possible minute, but I don’t want him to be in pain. If he could tell me what he wants, what would he choose?

For now, all. I can do is wait. I video him so I can always hear those diesel engine purrs of his. I want to remember how he rubs his face on mine so the cats know who he belongs to. I want to see how he curls up against me and looks so relaxed. Soon, that’s all I’ll have of him.

I don’t want this dance to end.