Yesterday, I had my sweetest baby Remi put to sleep. He was about two years and four months and had been thinning out pretty steadily for a few months. I chalked it up to old age, HED and a new female cagemate who he instantly fell in love with and followed around like a puppy. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed he wasn't eating his dry food. He was weaker and couldn't really get comfortable to hold the nibbles and eat them. His symptoms weren't exactly like PT, though it felt similar as it progressed. He would paw at his head a lot and eventually pull back if you pet it, so I figured it was some sort of brain tumor. We switched him to wet food and held veggies and treats for him, which he ate happily. He was started on a steroid and two antibiotics, but he continued to get progressively weaker. Eventually he stopped eating and drinking, and the pain in his head seemed to be worsening. We knew the end was coming, but I had never had an animal put to sleep, and I wasn't ready to do it. After a lot of reading on natural death, I decided to let nature take its course and hoped he would die peacefully after a night or two without water or food. But on day three, he was still fighting, and my guilt took over, and I started giving him small amounts of water, as much as he would take, and broth. I debated over sub-q but knew it would keep his body alive longer and that he was in pain from the brain tumor, so I didn't do it, even thought it might put more pressure on the tumor and cause more pain. Every day, I would wake up expecting him to have passed, but by day five, I couldn't take it anymore, and I took him to be put to sleep. It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I barely had the strength to get out of the car and take him in the vet's office. I wanted to drive around and pet him and hold him and tell him Mommy loves him all day. In the end, I did it for him. The vet said he was severely dehydrated and his kidneys were probably shutting down, which in theory, I knew would be the case, but as soon as he said it, I was filled with the most overwhelmingly devastating sense of guilt and "oh my god, what have I done to my baby". My sweetest, most precious, gentlest baby. I can barely live with myself right now. I cry pretty much all day and have complete breakdowns every so often. I know the right thing to have done would have been to put him down when he stopped eating and the meds failed to help. I know the second best thing to do if I was going to keep him alive would have been sub-q and forced feeding (which he hated, he wouldn't take more than 0.1ml), and I know I completely made the wrong choice to let his suffering go on for five days. I know all of these things. I know I handled it completely wrong. I thought I was doing the right thing. I loved him so much. I didn't want to let him go, which was selfish, and it took everything to let him go in the end. He had a peaceful death in the end. Even in the half hour or so before, my daughter and I took turns holding him, crying and telling him how much we loved him and what an amazing little ratty baby he was, and he seemed peaceful finally. The vet used gas and put him out completely. He looked so peaceful lying there breathing without pain. Then after a while, he did the injection in the abdomen, and it was over in a few minutes. My question now is, how do I ever forgive myself for hurting something I loved so much, something so sweet and precious? I wanted to do right by him, but I messed up and made the wrong choices and did him so wrong. I don't know if I can live with this. I feel like everyone else here would have done sub-q or put him down days sooner, and I feel like the worst person in the world for being too selfish and stupid to do the right thing. This was him a couple of days ago. God I miss him.