Wyatt died Monday, 7 January. I took him back to the vet that day because the antiobiotics weren't helping and I knew there was something else wrong. His breathing was severely labored and he was dehydrated AGAIN in spite of the Sub Q fluids and me waking him every 45 minutes to drink. He was so weak that he couldn't stand and was making little yelping sounds when he moved and breathed. I went in to the vet and she looked at him and said she it was time for him to go. She thought he was through trying to live. I started crying but I knew she was right. At the vet's office he peed on himself cause he was unable to walk. His urine was bright, bright red and she felt maybe he had a kidney problem. I agree with that. He was also severely anemic. I talked to him and held him in my arms for ten minutes. Kissed him on his little dry cracked nose and told him I was sorry that I couldn't help him anymore and then I signed the euthanization papers. I handed him to the Vet tech and went to call my husband. I KNOW I'm supposed to hold him while they give him the shot, but I was so hysterical I was upsetting him. Wyatt was covered with kisses by my vet and the tech every time we went to the vet's office. I felt comfortable having Liz hold him, he knew her. Not ONE minute after she closed the door of the exam room, he passed on his own. Like he knew I was letting him go and it was okay to leave me now. Sandee, tell him I love him very, very much and that I'm sorry Mommy couldn't fix him. Please help him make friends and please tell him I can't wait to see him again. This is the saddest day of my life. This is my first rescue that didn't make it. It feels horrible and I feel like I failed him. I took him from that rat hole pet store only to not be able to save him in the end. For those of you that remember, I was out there begging for donations to help get him, Belle Starr and Billy the Kid out of a fly infested, poopy, smelly nasty cage in a pet shop with no air-conditioning in the dead of summer. I raised almost enough to get them out and made up the difference myself. Wyatt was very, very special. He had been beaten by his former owners and was very, very afraid of me. He learned to love me and I want to thank you all, every single one of you that donated or only said prayers for us for giving me the time I had with Wyatt. The last few months of his life were the best he'd ever known. He even had his first Christmas complete with many, many presents from generous Santa's all over the country. Thank you so, so much. [Posted in FML issue 3659]