My cat died a little over a week ago. He was 10. Had a stroke, crawled to a corner and laid down. Shining a flashlight in his eyes, his pupils did nothing. He could hardly breathe.
I sat with him all morning long. Tried petting him, but it looked like it hurt, so I laid down in front of his face so he could see me. I asked my mom to bring one of my dad's dirty shirts so he could smell it, because my dad was his favorite person to sit on.
He started to have seizures, jolting up onto his front feet, then slowly, slowly, slowly melting back down to the floor. These fits came every few minutes.
I didn't leave him until I got up to go get dressed. When I came back, after 2 minutes tops, he was gone. He waited to be alone to die, verifying my fear that everything dies alone.