The first sign weeks ago that he was struggling was when he tried to get up on the futon, and he'd slip, unable to get his claws into the cushion. When he came toward us we knew to help him up, and once on our laps he'd settle right in as always.
During his last few days, especially, he was able to walk to his dishes, but then he'd just lay down in front of them, too tired or weak to stand and eat.
On his last day here with us I came home for lunch and knew he just wasn't doing well, and I sat with him on my lap until I had to return to work. Looking back now I wish I'd stayed home with him for the rest of the day. Had I known that would be his last day with us I would have held onto him as long as I could so we could reminisce about our long life together.