She had been her normal self this morning, and had been walking round the kitchen. We went out for a while (cats to vet). When we got back, she was looking a bit sorry for herself. She'd done a poo, or rather, she'd done a water. It wasn't watery poo, it was a lot of water. I wondered for a moment if she'd passed the white of an egg, but it wasn't gloopy enough.
I put her in her apartment while I cleaned up. Then, without warning, she tipped forward, with her bottom in the air. Her head and neck went dowm and her eyes closed. She was on her way out. I sat beside her, talking to her - telling her how much she was loved, what she meant to me, talking about the sunshine blah blah..
I've had several "this is it" moments with Tilda over the last 14 months, so there was part of me that didn't really believe she was going to go. As the seconds dragged by, she stayed in that position, and eventually I could feel myself believing this really was it. I wondered whether to ask DH to "do the deed". I decided to wait for a bit. I didn't want her to suffer, but I didn't want to do something so final unless I was sure.
Then her eyes opened a bit. Then she moved so she wasn't lying on her face. And then she just looked a bit miserable. Instead, I fetched water and a dropper. She drank. She drank a bit more. And more. SHe moved back into a more normal (ish) position
A few minutes later, I offered her some food. She looked, put her beak in, but rejected it. She looked like she was falling asleep, so I got up off the floor and went about my business. I checked on her every few minutes.
A little later, I tried some yoghurt. She managed to eat some of that. Then some more water.
Now, she's almost back to "normal". Normal for 'Tilda anyway. Almost.
Her will to live is very strong.