You can see his story here. I brought him to the new house since I could so easily keep him separate from all the others here, since I really really missed him. He was happy at my parents, but seemed as happy to be here as I was to have him. I am glad for that.
He died yesterday, March 17 at 4:20 in the afternoon. He started having seizures Thursday evening, which progressed to severe vertigo and vestibular issues. He only really wanted to be held by me the last couple of days, cupped in my hands as he was unable, too dizzy and weak, to sit up or balance on his own. On Friday I put two small toys with him which he did try to play with briefly with a little of his old spirit. He would give me some kisses when I was holding him, but by yesterday he was too tired for much of that. He was still sweet, still responded to me. I was holding him when he died. I had been holding him for a couple of hours. He was calmer, and in less pain than he had been. He seemed better and a bit stronger that afternoon, trying a bit pitifully to perch on my finger while leaning on my hand. I am glad, at least, for that.
I do not know when he was born. But he was at least eight. I think, in my poor human opinion, that he had a good life, at least after he came to me. It was his time to go, but he will be missed.