i don't write anymore. writing is something i have done since i was a little girl to clear my head, to keep me sane. to organize my thoughts and madness. and i just don't afford myself the time, therefore the peace for it anymore.
and now i feel myself desperately reaching for the keys, desperately reaching for some kind of peace.
she's having a really good day today. i woke up for the third morning on the kitchen floor. camped out on a thermarest beside her litter box and the butterfly chair stacked high with assorted towels and blankets, all of which bare evidence of her growing senility and discomfort, i.e urine. i call her the princess and the pea and realize it's a doubly appropriate moniker--the princess and the pee, more like.
so yes, she hopped over me on those vet-shaved legs that days ago hooked up to an iv, on those legs that wobble with each step, and she made a bee-line to her food. the same lump of food has sat on her dish neglected and rejected for five days. she looked at it, and at me as if to let me know that though this food was disgusting and old, she was so hungry she would eat it. I rushed for the fresh can and miraculously, she ate.
she ate.
this is really messing me up. i've taken the fact that she has stopped voluntarily eating as a sign that she has thrown in the towel--that she wants to die. i have force fed syringes of watered down nasty cat food into her tightly clamped jaws, each drop successfully ingested matched by smelly droplets landing on my vegetarian hands. we've infused her with fluid injections twice a day to try to replace the function of her failed kidneys. i have comforted myself in the knowledge that her body and mind have stopped trying survive, therefore i've told myself that euthanasia is the only humane thing to do. but now she sits on my lap after having devoured her second meal of the day and i shake my head and wonder how i can make the decision to end the life of she who has been my baby for fourteen years when she is voraciously sopping up the pungent friskies gravy. it's really messing with my head.
at key food this morning i picked out the smelliest fish flavored wet food i could find. i started to stock about 10 cans and realized i only needed one or maybe two tops. because at four pm tomorrow the vet is coming to our house to give her the fatal injection. it's nice that we can do that at home, but nevertheless i'm freaking about about it. i lost it in the cat food aisle at key food. i pulled the leopard print sunglasses from my head to my eyes and jade hugged me tightly and i thanked my lucky stars for him.
he who is allergic to cats and itches every night as he falls to sleep because of prussia. he who has come to the vet with me every time and taken over when i've started to pass out or sob. he who has been the nurse and administered the needles while i've held her down, queasy with my eyes closed. he who has handed over his debit card without hesitation when the bill totals hundreds every time. he who will take me to the movies after the vet leaves tomorrow so i can try to take my mind from the pain, or at least cry in the dark.
i realize i'm being very melodramatic. i realize i am not really a mother and prussia is not my child. but since i've never been there, it seems an awful lot like that.
this is really hard.
this morning you tube recommended i listen to this song. it's more uncanny than knowing what kind of shoes to advertise to me...
and now i feel myself desperately reaching for the keys, desperately reaching for some kind of peace.
she's having a really good day today. i woke up for the third morning on the kitchen floor. camped out on a thermarest beside her litter box and the butterfly chair stacked high with assorted towels and blankets, all of which bare evidence of her growing senility and discomfort, i.e urine. i call her the princess and the pea and realize it's a doubly appropriate moniker--the princess and the pee, more like.
so yes, she hopped over me on those vet-shaved legs that days ago hooked up to an iv, on those legs that wobble with each step, and she made a bee-line to her food. the same lump of food has sat on her dish neglected and rejected for five days. she looked at it, and at me as if to let me know that though this food was disgusting and old, she was so hungry she would eat it. I rushed for the fresh can and miraculously, she ate.
she ate.
this is really messing me up. i've taken the fact that she has stopped voluntarily eating as a sign that she has thrown in the towel--that she wants to die. i have force fed syringes of watered down nasty cat food into her tightly clamped jaws, each drop successfully ingested matched by smelly droplets landing on my vegetarian hands. we've infused her with fluid injections twice a day to try to replace the function of her failed kidneys. i have comforted myself in the knowledge that her body and mind have stopped trying survive, therefore i've told myself that euthanasia is the only humane thing to do. but now she sits on my lap after having devoured her second meal of the day and i shake my head and wonder how i can make the decision to end the life of she who has been my baby for fourteen years when she is voraciously sopping up the pungent friskies gravy. it's really messing with my head.
at key food this morning i picked out the smelliest fish flavored wet food i could find. i started to stock about 10 cans and realized i only needed one or maybe two tops. because at four pm tomorrow the vet is coming to our house to give her the fatal injection. it's nice that we can do that at home, but nevertheless i'm freaking about about it. i lost it in the cat food aisle at key food. i pulled the leopard print sunglasses from my head to my eyes and jade hugged me tightly and i thanked my lucky stars for him.
he who is allergic to cats and itches every night as he falls to sleep because of prussia. he who has come to the vet with me every time and taken over when i've started to pass out or sob. he who has been the nurse and administered the needles while i've held her down, queasy with my eyes closed. he who has handed over his debit card without hesitation when the bill totals hundreds every time. he who will take me to the movies after the vet leaves tomorrow so i can try to take my mind from the pain, or at least cry in the dark.
i realize i'm being very melodramatic. i realize i am not really a mother and prussia is not my child. but since i've never been there, it seems an awful lot like that.
this is really hard.
this morning you tube recommended i listen to this song. it's more uncanny than knowing what kind of shoes to advertise to me...
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