We named Pixel after the kitten in the Robert Heinlein book who walked through walls because he didn't know that he couldn't. He walked into our apartment one day 12 years ago and curled up in a chair and decided to stay, so it seemed appropriate. He was literally starving when we got him, and even on a steady diet of cat food four times a day he would still stalk and eat french fries, pizza, tortilla chips, cheese and doughnuts. At one point he tipped the scales at somewhere north of 18 pounds, but lately he was just a bit more than eight. He mellowed a bit the last few years, but you still had to watch yourself around him as he never fully got over his time as a stray and having to fight for his life and he could take a chunk out of you when the mood struck. He's the only cat I have ever known who came when you called him.
Pixel did not do well after the surgery yesterday. It seems he had a pretty nasty infection hiding in his lymphnodes along with the cancer and overnight the infection took over. This morning, we had to decide whether to keep going with treatments that might buy us a little time, might even buy us enough time to treat the likely very advanced cancer and possibly get Pixel another six months, or to just let him go. We decided to let him go. A little while ago, we sent him off to find Callie.
I want our cats back now, please.