He fought the good fight, but in the end it was just too much for him. He was going downhill quickly. We didn't want him to suffer, and with the long weekend ahead, we didn't want to say goodbye in the office of an emergency vet. Instead, we got to hold him and say goodbye and be comforted by the compassionate doctors that know us and him.
I imagine Inky's heaven is filled with black pants that he can cover with hair, bathroom sinks that run water nonstop, wall-to-wall catnip, a sunny window, a warm lap and someone to rub his ears.