I hate that I had to decide when to give up on my cat. He's 11 and I've had him since I moved out on my own. He has congestive heart failure but is fighting it hard. He has good days and bad days, but I've been slowly watching him die since Christmas. I've gotten to the point where I can't stand fighting to get him medicated every day, can't stand wondering if he'll be there when I get home. It's tearing me apart, but I hate being the one that called it quits on him. I hate being the one that gave up.