Okay, bad, bad me.

It's difficult to say why I don't keep this up as much as I used to. I certainly have things I'd like to say.

I'd like to tell you about my poor dear cat, my companion for nine and a half years. After noticing some behavior changes over the last two or three months, I finally found her having difficulty eating. After examining her mouth I noticed what looked like a cut or abscess underneath her tongue. When I took her on a vet visit. They decided she needed immediate hospitalization. By the next morning they were able to tell me they were pretty sure it was cancer, "squamous cell carcinoma."

Against their encouragement to euthanize her that very day, I decided to take her home for a last day of love, embraces, and a desperate attempt to get her to eat. I knew it wasn't going to work, but I hated the notion of leaving her alone in the hospital, having her poked and prodded by strangers, then coming over just to preside over her murder.

Well, those are human feelings, and I did what I could to keep her comfortable that last night. I let the next day proceed as if it was any other day. I cuddled in bed with her during the morning. We both fell asleep, and when I woke up around 11 or so, I realized she only had a few hours to live, and it was in my control. I don't believe I ever cried so hard in my life, or at least in adulthood. It was awful, the feeling of unconsolable loss. I heard sounds coming from my throat I couldn't even recognize as my own.

I tried to make the day go normally after that. I surfed the web with her at my feet. I did laundry while she sunned herself in the living room, following the sun as it made it's way across the room. That always seemed to be one of her favorite things. I went across the street to Java Supreme for a snack - I couldn't stand to eat in front of her, as she couldn't eat herself.

Around two or so, I finally gave one last attempt to feed her. I realized then that I was just tormenting her and picked up the phone to let my vet's office know that I would be coming soon.

When I got there, it was a busy Saturday afternoon. The lobby was pretty full. Pretty much anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Standard procedure dictates that the pet and their guardian be escorted immediately to a special waiting room. However, the person at the desk was new, and she had me wait with everyone else in front. I know now why they have that policy. It just feels awful knowing you'll be bringing that carrier back empty while most of those people won't.

I kept it together long enough for them to send me to the back. Fortunately, a friend who works at the adoption center saw me, and offered to stay, and I accepted. It was a wonderful gesture, and a burden as well, as the procedure didn't exactly go smoothly. There was pain. Apparently, the IV unit placed in a couple of days before caused the sedating solution to sting. A cry of pain, a needle flying across the room. It's all kind of fuzzy now, but we continued with an injection to the rear. Not ideal, but it did the trick. She slowed down considerably. The next shot involved more sedation, followed by the shot that stopped her heart. I was exhausted, and relieved to end her suffering, and now my guilt for not figure out she was sick earlier. They told me this type of cancer is lethal, and any treatment would have been futile, and surgery wouldn't have worked. I checked online a few times, and there are quite a few stats backing this.

So after the sorrow, just a sense of loss. A living creature who greated me every morning, who slept with me most nights, is gone. I still have my big brown tabby. And I know that someday he'll have another housemate to abuse, but right now I'm focusing on my own healing and finally finding a diet that will help my big boy lose three pounds he needs to lose badly.

Oh, and I did keep up a rather morbid family tradition of having my girl cremated. I got the call a few days later, and stopped to pick up her ashes last Saturday. As I took her home, I whispered to the box "Ha, thought you were going to get away, did ya? Well, you're stuck with me for a lot longer than you ever thought."

I'm starting to wonder if that was a good idea. I think we have funerals for a good reason - they bring closure. I don't have closure, not yet, but it's hard for me to let her go. Perhaps in the Spring I can do something, like spreading her ashes into the ocean, perhaps create a personal ceremony for the occasion.

Perhaps. Or perhaps I can place it next to a growing pile of things that remind me of those who've left. It seems lately that life is about collecting losses.

music:

night life:

sex life: