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WARNING! THE FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS AND PHOTOGRAPHS THAT MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR EVERYONE TO READ AND VIEW. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO DESCRIPTIVE CONTENT PERTAINING TO LIQUIDATION OF A HOUSEHOLD PET AND UTILIZING THE CARCASS FOR FOOD PREPARATION - YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STOP READING NOW. PARENTAL CONSENT IS REQUIRED FOR MINORS AGED BELOW 18 TO PROCEED WITH READING OF THIS PAGE. IF OTHER LAWS IN YOUR COUNTRY APPLY ON SAID CONTENT YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR FOLLOWING THEM.
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Before you continue, there are some things you need to know. I initially said that I intend to press on with my goal and deliver on all of my promises. I promised that I will spend considerable effort to ensure Fuzzy does not go through suffering or discomfort on his last day. As you will soon see, I was true to my word.
What you will not find here is blood, gore, mutilations or abuse of any kind. Fuzzy was put to death quickly and painlessly. No incisions were made in his flesh other than those absolutely required to prepare it for safe and hygienic processing in the kitchen. Any remains left were subsequently collected, covered and buried in a respectful setting. I have posted a few photos for credibility, but these pictures were taken shortly after Fuzzy's death and the only thing they show is that in death he was peaceful and serene. You won't be seeing any meal photos or anything more explicit.
I also conducted a thorough legal research to make sure no law was broken in the process. If anyone still believes that laws were violated, kindly do your homework before sending empty threats. As hard as it may be for people in America to accomplish, please try your best not to mistake your fantasies for reality and your sentiments for state laws.

Part 1: The Vet

The idea of turning to a veterinarian came last week, which is why I needed the delay so much. Having researched a few vet clinics in my area, I picked the one that specialized most on animal castration and euthanasia.
On Thursday, November 19, I took Fuzzy to the doctor. At the beginning of our appointment, I asked to speak with the vet privately and the assistant promptly left the room. Holding Fuzzy on my knees, I broke into tears (at that moment it came natural for some reason). I told the vet that even though Fuzzy is a perfectly healthy cat, I came to ask to put him to sleep. The vet's expression became puzzled and he asked why would I want to do that. I explained that I was moving away and will have no way of looking after Fuzzy at the new place. No friends or relatives want to adopt Fuzzy and he is too attached to our old apartment to adapt anywhere else without running away. I added that as a child my family had a cat who was found dead on the street after my family moved out and abandoned him. The childhood trauma, I continued, prompted me to make sure nothing like that ever happens to my pet. I said that I want to make sure Fuzzy goes away peacefully and spends his last moments with me.
The vet shook his head and said that it still makes no sense to him that an owner would want to euthanize a healthy pet and surely there are other solutions. I told him that I explored every other option, that parting with Fuzzy is not feasible, especially since no one I know and trust will agree to take care of him. Giving him away to an animal shelter is also not an option. There he may be kept in a cage and given away to complete strangers at best, or, most likely, eventually be put to sleep in the same way.
This argument went on for a little longer but eventually the vet said that it's my right to have Fuzzy euthanized and that as a professional he will lend the service I require, even though as a person he feels very uneasy with my request. I thanked him and we scheduled for Monday.
I will add that during my appointment I made sure to be as truthful as possible. The only thing I had to lie about was the real reason why I wanted Fuzzy put to sleep. That, however, had little or no impact on the vet's final decision to grant my request, as my arguments obviously got none of his sympathy (in fact I'm pretty sure he disliked me) and his decision to perform the task stemmed from his recognition of my right as Fuzzy's owner to decide his fate.

Part 2: The Deed

On Monday, November 23, I took Fuzzy on his final journey through the doors of the clinic where his life had to end. The procedure was performed by the vet and one of his assistants, a young girl. She showed an apparent discomfort and gave me weird looks. Neither said a word to me except a brief "Hello" and a few instructions, spoken in a dry tone. I was asked to lay Fuzzy down and hold him while they administer the first dose of sedative. I started crying, again, and asked to remain next to Fuzzy for the duration of the process. The vet responded with what seemed to be a reluctant nod.
At this point, Fuzzy began to stir. He could have sensed my turmoil, though he did not react this way when I cried on our last appointment. I held to him tighter and put my right palm on his chest where I could feel his little heart pounding in an accelerated pace. The assistant made the first injection while the doctor was preparing a small vial with some transparent liquid in it. After the injection, Fuzzy squirmed in my hands and gave a brief squeak. I leaned to him and talked softly in his ear, telling him that I love him so much, that he just got sick and the doctor needs to take care of him, that he is going to fall asleep now and soon he will wake up and everything will be alright. I slowly felt his heart slowing down and his head kind of loosened on my supporting palm. He still had pulse, though at this point he was fast asleep.
The vet approached holding the vial. He replaced the assistant next to the operating table with Fuzzy. He told me I can let go now, but I kept holding on to Fuzzy's warm fur. He looked at me quizzically and waited for me to say something. I just stared at him without speaking. Then he said: "She only gave him a mild sedative as preparation. This (he pointed at the vial) will end his life. Right now, you can still reconsider. Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"
I held Fuzzy there, his heart still beating and I almost faltered. I almost couldn't do it. But I didn't tell the vet to call it off. I kept stroking Fuzzy and lowered my gaze.
The vet filled a syringe with the euthanasia drug from the vial and made an injection. This had no apparent effect on Fuzzy, he still had pulse and his eyes were closed. The vet then put on a stethoscope and put it next to my hand on Fuzzy's chest. About thirty seconds later, I felt his heart going weaker. It's not like it was going slower or anything, I just felt the beating get more and more "distant", as if Fuzzy's heart was getting farther away. Eventually, the beating was completely gone. A few moments later, the vet removed the stethoscope and said that we're done. I picked Fuzzy up and for some reason he seemed heavier than before. The vet asked if I want to leave Fuzzy in the clinic and they will dispose of the remains. I strongly suspect he wanted to use him for educational surgeries with his training assistants. I told him that I want to bury Fuzzy myself. Of course, I wasn't entirely lying about that, but naturally I couldn't reveal the whole truth about my plans for Fuzzy's body. The assistant came in and handed me a large plastic bag. I used it to wrap Fuzzy, then quickly paid for the services and left the place. Needless to say, I was in a hurry to get home. I held to my precious bundle of joy really close, wary that natural warmth doesn't entirely leave the little corpse before I could subject it to my culinary efforts.

Part 3: The Meal

I brought Fuzzy home and laid him on a blanket. I intended to have him well tucked in and covered while I prepared the kitchen and other ingredients. Before covering him, I took a few pictures to post here. Be advised that this is the only place I will ever post pictures of dead Fuzzy and there will be no further pictures of that nature. As always, you can click on each picture to enlarge it.