Merlin was cradled in Julie's arms like a baby while I gently stroked his head and whiskers. I had figured out (through 6 years of trial and error) the way he most enjoyed it. An hour went by this way, and my shoulder ached from the repetitive motion of stroking, but I kept at it because I knew he liked it. He even started to purr.   We knew that, at any time, we could push the button on the wall. Then the doctor would enter the room, take out her syringes, and end the life of this cat that ...