I think I just scarred my poor little Pizzmeister for life. We had to have the talk.
No, not the sex talk!
We had the "I'm so sorry, but your favorite kitty cat can't come home" talk.
Of course, Pizzly doesn't understand and now hates me. He keeps screaming that he doesn't want Mouse, our beloved cat, to go away.
"He can't go away!"
"He needs to go home!"
"Mouse makes me happy!"
These are all things my eldest shouted at me as I explained that sometimes when things are really sick and hurt a lot we have to help them rest so they don't hurt anymore. We have to help them fall asleep, which, of course, resulted in a chorus of "Wake up!" from the boy.
Then, as I explained that Mouse would never wake up, but we'd get to say good bye to him and tell him that we love him, the poor little mite started sobbing, which got me going too, and I don't even really like that damn cat that much.
But, Pizzly loves him, and there's nothing worse than being the messenger, especially when the news you are bringing hurts somebody so much.
I'm sorry Pizzly.