Report Blog Entry
It was an ok day, an ok celebration but I can’t say it was 100% for me because my boy is dying as I type this. The first events into 22 + 3 are not going to be happy ones. They are going to be upsetting. After everything I’m failing at I was great at being a parent to my furball and he let me know. Purring, curling up on my lap, by my side, following me around, bringing me little dead or alive things.
I feel like I’m failing; he’s dying and there’s nothing I can do about it. They can’t remove a tumour in a difficult place, they can’t take back their diagnosis and just leave it at arthritis. They can’t give me back the supposed 5 to 6 years he had left. It isn’t fair.
I remember sitting in the bathroom when I was 10 with all these little kittens on my lap curled up, sleeping and purring. The one kitten who ran around like no mountain could even block his path. Flash by name flash by nature. That nature has slowed greatly. No back legs and now no front legs, hardly any head movement. He’s still purring and nudging my hand with his head.
I don’t know if I will be the same after this. My little lifeline.
I got some nice presents. A wrecked wool sweater, striped long sleeved shirt, several books, a Chucky doll and Tiffany doll, a DVD on Chernobyl and some money. I took flash with me to go see other people. He was ok with the fuss, happy to just lay by my leg. I was feeling gross and filled with anxiety. Holding him gently and then catching my reflection repeatedly in windows, screens and mirrors. I hate my appearance.
I want to disappear into a new world when Flash goes. Maybe it’s my fault he’s sick. I fucked up somehow. I’m sorry.
Comments
Displaying 1 of 1 comments ( View all | Add Comment )
xXLil4cLuXx
You did not fuck up, there are things that are just out of our control, and it hurts, it really hurts I know.