If your heart doesn't break atleast once a week, you're not working hard enough...

Several years ago, I put hours of work into a cat at the shelter to teach him to accept people, and help him get adopted. It took about a year, but he was adopted by an older couple who adored him. After spending so much time with him, of course, I adored him also, and was half elated and half heartbroken to see him go. He did pretty well for the most part, but 2 months ago, we got a call from the people who adopted him. Bradley was suddenly going to the bathroom all over the house, in really odd places. He had also lost weight, although he had a good appetite. The went back and forth about whether they should take him to the vet or the shelter, and somehow decided it was a better idea to bring him back to the shelter. I was so sad. Of course he was stressed and rather grumpy for a while, but I instantly started working with him again. It was clear that there was something wrong with him that was other than behavioral, so we had the look at him, did blood work. His bloodwork came back, liver enzymes and billyruben were off. They wanted us to treat him with amoxi for a month, and then re-run the bloodwork. He had weighed in at 6.12 oz. So we treated him with the amoxi, and I continued convincing him that I still loved him, so he should still love me. It didn't take long this time, only a couple weeks to get to the point where he could be held, and only a couple more weeks to get to the point where he would cry for attention and ask to be held. Well, then it was time for his bloodwork to run again. He was good at the vet, and he had put on a full pound, it had been just about 5 weeks. Thats pretty damned good weight gain, especially for a cat who is under 10 lbs to begin with. Anyway, the weight gain had my hopes up, although his blood was dark and thick (compared to normal blood), but still, even the vet (usually pessimistic), thought he would have a decent shot but that he just might need a little more medical care long term. So we get the results back on the bloodwork, and sadly, the result wasn't nearly so good. His enzymes and billyrubin were even worse than they had been a month before. If he were someone's pet, the next step would be to do an ultrasound of the liver, maybe try more meds and a supplement, depending on what the ultrasound showed, but he's not someone's pet any more. Now he is a shelter cat. And a shelter cat who has a hard time being handled by strangers. And no matter what he has, the prognosis long term isn't good. And he could go into an emergency state at any time, with little warning. He could have cancer. And so, this cat that I love so much, this cat who prefers me to all other people (he really does), this cat who I had such high hopes for... now he is going to be put to sleep, euthanized, humanely put to death... destroyed. And it kills me. He kills me every time I walk into the room and he cries to be picked up. Every time I pick him up and he purrs and rubs my face, and drools a little, he kills me. If I didn't love him so much, then I know I wouldn't be doing my job very well, but in the mean time I have to go around like my heart isn't in shambles and like I don't come home and cry every night. And I have to know that time will heal every thing, as well as time will put me in a similar situation again some day down the road.