I am still very down about Wiggy. Writing helps me, and today while waiting for my son in the car, i wrote down lots of my thoughts on paper to try and clarify them.I came to these conclusions:1. If i had left wiggy and not taken him to the vet, he would have got worse over the next few days as he was definitely showing signs of being affected by what was going on increasingly. A week ago, he was sleeping ok and lying down, but breathing fast. On sunday night he did not come inside for his dinner until 7pm, sleeping on his couch outside. He normally comes in to be fed as early as 4. Then next morning he did not come down for breakfast until 10, when he is normally at my feet with the other cat as soon as i am up - 7am at least. And he was restless during the night on my bed, kept getting up and changing positions which i see in hindsight was a symptom. So, in another week or so, i would have been worrying about him so much, that I would have taken him to the vet and I guess the same thing would have happened. Tests and then surgery. 2. At the time when they had him anaesthetised, and they told me they needed to operate, i asked if i had another option and they said no. That he would die without it. I dont know for sure if they said then that he would die, but i do recall saying 'well, i dont have another choice do I?" and she said no. 3. Choosing the surgery was me giving him a chance at surviving. Without it he would not have. So, i was making a choice for his good, to save him. I think i remember telling him this when i visited him post op 24 hours. 4. I have no idea as to whether cats or any other animals do have the power of reason, or logic or feelings. I am summosing that he may have known and blamed me for his pain and suffering and for taking him away from the comfort of me and home.Summosing. I have no proof, so its not good to think entirely that he did have reason or logic, as i simply dont know.And anyway, he saw me on the Monday morning, wheni left him at the vet. Yes, he would have been upset at me leaving him there and not taking him home, for he hopped in his cat carrier ready to go home for me. And he was meowing at the vets door to get out when i left. And scratching at it. So he would blame me perhaps for leaving him and be sad at that, but after that, I was not there to inflict any of these other things on him that caused him pain. Sure, i was not there to take him away, but it was also not me in person giving him discomfort, it was the other nasty people. 5. I went to visit him 24 hours post op and although he was out of it, he did know i was there i think. When i rubbed his face and nose as he loved it and spoke to him, occasionally he would open his eyes. It may have been with pain or discomfort, but it also may have been that in his haze of painkillers, he knew his mum was there as was her soothing voice. And i said lots of things to him then, including how much i loved him. And i told him, i think, that we had to do the surgery to save him. I am not sure of that, but it would make sense that i did, for i was feeling bad to see him in pain. I told him repeatedly that mummy was here to make him feel better, and that people were praying to give him strength so he could get better. I was there about 15 mins, Perhaps i should have stayed longer = regret. 6. I have no idea as to whether he genuinely developed a lung problem, or that the vet/nurse set off a reaction when they perhaps took his chest tube out. Maybe it was them. No good crying over spilt milk, but perhaps it was them that made him die, when Wiggy was doing all he could to get better. 7. He was undoubtedly in a lot of pain. He was also undoubtedly quite 'out of it' at times with pain killers. Maybe, he didnt have much idea of what was going on with him in his haze, just the sensation of pain and being in a foreign environment. That shouldnt make him think i was doing anything bad to him. (here i go again assuming that cats have power of reasoning). I know animals know their surroundings, and their owners and form memories of that. I know as kittens, if they are treated badly, they develop fears for the things that surround what treated them badly, not necessarily the person who did it. Like my cat bean, who hates shoes and hates you reaching down with your hand to pat him on the head or anywhere. Thats a scar from his kittenhood. Its not about who did it to him, just about the fact that hands and perhaps shoes were the source of pain to him, so he hates them. So, i am not sure indeed how much or whether there is a power of reason there, just some basic memories. So, i need to stop fussing. I know i do. But I feel so empty without him. He was the one who was always there. In the background. And i always said to him "its you and me wiggy. When the chips are down, there is always you for me". And he loved his giant pats which were great for him, and for me therapy. Thats what i miss. It has left a big hole.Bean is my other cat. He does not let me pat him, hangs at my feet, but wont be affectionate, so he cannot fill the void. I have tried, year after year, but Bean is Bean, he cannot fill that void. I feel like i cant do much at home, but i do think i am slightly better today. I managed rowing this morning and a few people spoke about it, some revoltingly (cat haters) but i managed not to cry. And i spoke to LYn about it and did not cry, I guess as Nick was in the car with me.I was distracted as well as i had to go to ipswich for nicks soccer and that took almost all day. Now i am home by myself and i feel incredibly lonely and lost. Never felt so bad in all my times of distress i dont think. There is a huge hole in my heart where he left. Paul has been good, but I still have that feeling that he is not the one for me, and he frustrates me, so that doesnt help. And right now, i am in one of my frustrated times with him (i go in and out of it), so it makes things worse i think. Hormones cannot be helping, as i went 6 weeks without a period but got one yesterday, and i have been starting to have hot flushes, hence menopause. All in all a mixed up puppy i am now. The time when i loved the fact that i had Mr Wiggy. And i took him for granted, he was just in the background, thats all he had to do. Sometimes want his giant pats, when he flopped at your feet, or looked at you with his big eyes and tilted his head to the side when lying down, or lying down at your feet and meowing, or as you pat him, grabbing your hands with his paws so that you would not stop. Scratching at my bedroom door to come in my room and sleep the night with me, trying to cosy up but usually ending up on his 'spot' (a towel i put on my bed for him to lie on) How lovely. I want him back.