Kitty has had diarrhea for the past couple of days, and she hasn't been eating. I smeared some food on her face to get her to lick it off, and she did eat it that way, but she hasn't approached the food dish, although it's right next to her.
She's also been throwing up, but only bringing up saliva. It may be due to the lack of food. I don't know.
I've been giving her some of the stomach medicine the vet gave me a few months ago. She's not happy about that. I've been giving her lots of pets, which she does like.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I was talking about her, and about the thought of losing her, and he went into his usual spiel about people and pets dying, and there's no way of avoiding it, and I broke down. He ripped the cardboard off a box of tissues and gave me one. And another. And another. "Get it out of your system," he said.
I haven't, though. I'm still crying. I can't imagine coming home and not finding her here. I can't bear the thought of stuffing her into that cat carrier and taking her to the vet, knowing what will happen. She hates going to the vet so much, and I don't want to subject her to that.
The only option I can think of, is to ask the woman from the shelter if she would be willing to come here and do the lethal injection. I think she's done it to kitties in the shelter before. I know she's come here to give my kitties other injections. I haven't talked to her in a few years, so I don't know.
I feel like the Angel of Death. I feel like the Juliette Binoche character in The English Patient. I wanted to get a break from one death after another.
2008: Three deaths.
2009: One death.
2010: One death.
2011 - present: One death.
Why am I still here?
She's also been throwing up, but only bringing up saliva. It may be due to the lack of food. I don't know.
I've been giving her some of the stomach medicine the vet gave me a few months ago. She's not happy about that. I've been giving her lots of pets, which she does like.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I was talking about her, and about the thought of losing her, and he went into his usual spiel about people and pets dying, and there's no way of avoiding it, and I broke down. He ripped the cardboard off a box of tissues and gave me one. And another. And another. "Get it out of your system," he said.
I haven't, though. I'm still crying. I can't imagine coming home and not finding her here. I can't bear the thought of stuffing her into that cat carrier and taking her to the vet, knowing what will happen. She hates going to the vet so much, and I don't want to subject her to that.
The only option I can think of, is to ask the woman from the shelter if she would be willing to come here and do the lethal injection. I think she's done it to kitties in the shelter before. I know she's come here to give my kitties other injections. I haven't talked to her in a few years, so I don't know.
I feel like the Angel of Death. I feel like the Juliette Binoche character in The English Patient. I wanted to get a break from one death after another.
2008: Three deaths.
2009: One death.
2010: One death.
2011 - present: One death.
Why am I still here?
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