Nice day until I came home. Fiona was very sick and convulsing. Long story short, I had to put Fiona down. I feel so horrible that maybe I did something to cause her to be sick, or I neglected her somehow. I'm so sorry. I knew she wasn't that well but I stupidly just attributed it to the hairballs.
Steve and I have fundamental differences on end-of-life measures for pets and it's not likely either of us will change. I do the humane thing and pay the good money to have them put to sleep when they are sick or suffering. Steve thinks animals are just animals, they don't have a soul, etc. Well I know they DO have souls. Even the ancient Hebrew word for "four-footed mammal" and "soul" is the same word. Anyway he thinks we ought to just let them die, though I would prefer not to have a convulsive cat slowly dying for several days, primarily because she would be suffering.
The clinic offered to run a battery of tests for hundreds of dollars to see what was wrong with her. I couldn't afford it and I could see she was already too far gone. My poor little kitty. I feel like I really, really let her down. I should have cared for her better.