I think McGee is on his last legs. He's off his food and he's been getting more and more unsteady on his feet over the last three days. Today he could barely walk. I suppose I can't be too upset; he must around 19 or 20, which is damn good for a cat! And he wasn't even our cat to begin with. He was the neighbours' until he decided that he would rather live with us. But that was a while ago now and he's been here for years and I do think of him as ours. Or, rather, us as his. I'll miss him when he goes.
He's currently lying down in the conservatory. He always liked that spot. I kinda hope he just stops breathing there, it would be a nice way to go.