My poor little kitty

My 14 year old kitty is "on the decline" as a good friend put it.  He's never been a particularly healthy cat as he's suffered from inflammatory bowel disease (sorry way TMI) for about half of his life.  And, about a year ago he was diagnosed with arthritis and put on pain meds and joint supplements.  They made a huge difference in his quality of life.  After a while, though, the meds started wreaking havoc on his stomach and we pulled him back off of them.  Surprisingly, right now he seems to be feeling pretty good -- he jumps on the couch to sit with me and seems pretty happy. 

But, he's lost a lot of weight and has become exceptionally finicky about what he'll eat.  I don't want to take him to the vet because it is absolute torture to him.  He always howls and hisses and bites at the vet when in reality he's an incredibly sweet cat.  Half the time they have to put him under if they want to draw blood and I know that would be deadly right now.  Any solution they would have for him would involve either meds (which he automatically throws up), or fluids (have you ever given subcutaneous fluids to a cat?  I have, it's not fun for either of you), or shots or an IV (which would definitely be torture to him). 

His quality of life right now seems pretty good.  He seems happy.  He jumps up to snuggle, he purrs, he gets excited about a can of tuna.  I feel like a horrible cat-mommy.  There may be something the vet could do but I'm afraid the cure would be worse than the disease.  It makes me so upset.  I love my little kitty.  I want to do everything I can for him, but I don't want him to feel worse.  He's been there for me for more than 14 years.  I got him as a present from my cousins the year after I graduated from college and he comforted me through all the stresses of graduate school and relationship failures in my 20s and moved with me across the country to start a new job.  He used to have a little sister kitty as well, but she died from mammary cancer about three years ago (yes, my cat had breast cancer).  I guess I want to keep him around as long as I can but I don't want him to hurt.  With his sister, I knew when it was time to let her go.  I guess I'm just waiting to feel that with him.

I think part of this that is so upsetting is that I feel like I'm watching a part of my life fade out.  This was the cat that represented my 20s.  This was someone to come home to when I was alone.  I feel like I'm closing a chapter of my life.  His being this old and sick means that I'm getting older.  I know I'm getting older -- there's a new line in my folder in the RE's office that says "over 35."  But, you know, I don't usually feel that old until I stop and think about it.  My kitty being "on the decline" has just made me think about it.  A lot.

OK, I have to stop crying, dry my eyes and open my office door.