Today is one year anniversary of having to say goodbye to one of my family members, of standing in a vet exam room and being unable to stop my beloved best friend from seizures and then having to make the decision to let him rest than letting him suffer just for my own emotional security. My Old Man was the best cat. And there isn't a day where I don't think about him in some capacity.
I didn't press the plunger, but I killed him all the same, regardless of how much I know now that it was the right decision. Even if there are times where I second-guess it constantly.
If you had taken better care of his teeth
If you had taken him to the vet twice a year instead of once a year
If you had tried to make him eat more wet food than dry
If you had been more concerned with his excessive peeing
If if if if if
I know these thoughts don't help, and they're detrimental, and I'm still grieving over a cat that died a year ago. Maybe I'm being over-dramatic, or maybe this day just hits harder than most as I often find myself back in that vet room.