Goodbye Hobbes

I have a problem letting things go.  Anyone who knows me knows this.  I've kept cars, relationships, and computers out of sentiment long past when they were actually worth the expense / effort / software jury-rigging required to maintain them.

I am trying to let my cat go.  He is 18 years old.  His eyes are clouded with cataracts, his gait is stiff in the mornings, and he's diabetic.  He also has what the vet believes is a tumour on his head, just above his right eye.  It's this last thing that might be the thing that makes me give him up.  Because although he can still jump up onto the bed with me at night, and his appetite is healthy, and he still enjoys lying in sunny patches around the house… 

There is a point - I've seen it in other animals, just before they died or were put down - where the spark goes out in the eyes, and they move as if they were only looking for the perfect spot to lie down and not move again.  And when someone asked me whether it wouldn't be kinder to have him put down… no. Because he's not at that point yet.  But if it's cancer, then that changes things, because I don't want to stand aside deluding myself that he's fine as it consumes bone and tissue and nerves.  I want to say goodbye before he starts to look at me in reproach because I won't let him die.

But really, I want my boy back in my arms for one more day / week / month so that my love will travel with him on the final journey into night.