Not to take this in completely the wrong direction ...
but since that's what I do best, here goes.
Skoots was failing fast, and I kept him alive for a week until my son could
get back from Oregon to say goodbye. My boy was here about 20 minutes and turned to me and said, "Dad, we have to do this." We put him into the threebody trunk of my 65 Valiant and drove across town to the vet's office. Open the trunk and he pops up his head to see what's going on. WE were laughing and crying at the same time -- but mostly just weeping. I freelanced for about 15 years, and he was my CONSTANT companion. Slept with my son from the time we brought him home as a 1-lb puffball, and my boy was 4. My two redheaded kids. Part of the family, indeed.