This is going to be a long entry fucking deal with it
Rocky died. I can't stop crying. I mean like my whole body is wrenching and I feel like I can't breathe.
The vet had given me the impression the antibiotics might help. Unbeknownst to me, when he called my mom to give the lab results, he actually asked if Rocky was still alive. Thus HE knew how bad off he was, but I didn't. Shortly before 2 pm Saturday, I called the emergency vet and explained the situation, that I'd been turned down for CareCredit, asking if they could work out any sort of payment plan. They said that the owners weren't there, so they couldn't authorize that, but if I could just bring in a few hundred dollars, they could at least take him in for the weekend, give him the transfusion, and then work the rest out Monday. The woman on the phone said "If there's any way you can get even a few hundred dollars, you really need to bring him in, your cat sounds pretty critical." So I called my father begging for the money. He said I should just show up there with $20, which was all I had, and say "Listen, this is all I have, but my cat is very very sick, I can pay you every week, just please see him"..and as I was talking to my father, Rocky stood up, then sort of looked dizzy, like he couldn't walk right, and collapsed onto the carpet where I had my computer. He started having a lot of trouble breathing. He was making a horrible rasping sound, and his breaths were abnormally far apart. I got off the phone and ran upstairs and got the keys to Ray's car and the carrier and when I put Rocky in the carrier, he was like a rag doll, he didn't fight me at all, he just like..fell into it in a pile..I had a very bad feeling, but he still was making noises.
So this horrible, horrible drive to the vet, which is near Plymouth Meeting Mall, was the worst. I was almost screaming, just saying "Jesus, Jesus, please, please, save him, please, let me get there in time, please don't let me lose him, please God, please protect him, please let me get there please please please..Rocky I love you so so so much please hang in there"..the rasps were getting farther apart..but I went through a red light to turn left, I drove as fast as possible in traffic..but shortly before I got to the vet, the sounds stopped. I knew what this meant but I kept thinking "maybe he passed out, or is just being quiet, or if he is gone, they can resuscitate him"..I ran in and said "Please, I don't know if my cat is alive, can you please try to revive him if not, please" and they took him right away..and then led me to a room and someone came in shortly after to say they were sorry, there was nothing they could do, there was no heartbeat. I said "But can't you use the paddles, the defibrillator thing, to shock him" and they just said no, no explanation..the girl was like "We have medications, like atropine, I could try, but I'm telling you they most likely won't work." I said "What is the likelihood that would work?" and she said "Very, very low." I SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER TO TRY IT ANYWAY. I am so fucking angry at myself that I didn't tell her to try it anyway. But I was thinking "How would we pay for that" and "What if it worked but he was brain damaged"..I just didn't know what to do..I just wish so much I'd told her to try that..I was pretty much hysterical and they kept telling me to ssh, I guess because other clients were out in the waiting room with their fucking HEALTHY ALIVE PETS..I said I needed to see him and they brought him to me wrapped in a towel and it was so, so horrible. I just held him for a half hour or so. I kissed his little perfect ears but I got tears on them so I had to wipe them off. I kissed his chin. I just held him. His eyes were open and he looked alive..it was horrible. They said they couldn't shut his eyes though. He felt like a rag doll, and if I reached up to wipe my eyes, his head would like loll back. I just can't get that image out of my head, of him in that blanket, already gone..I wish i could just hold him again, even then, when he was already gone. I would give anything to hold him again. I just can't stand this. I can't have him be gone. It happened so fast.
I didn't know he was that sick. He'd just started being lethargic and not eating in the past, like, 3 or 4 days..we thought he might just have a cold or something..I had an appointment Saturday morning, that always involves a lot of waiting, and I might not have been able to get back to my mom's until 2:30 or 3. I was trying to decide, Friday, whether to go to the appt or not, and Ray convinced me that I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Rocky and I had chosen to go. So I canceled it. And it turned out Rocky died around 2 o'clock so I would have probably still been at the appt or on a train. And my mom had work so he would've died all alone. Saturday morning he was just sitting in the corner of the dining room, occasionally drinking water but just sitting there..he'd start howling which was obviously in pain, and then he'd stop..I woke up around 9 and brought some magazines and my computer down and just lay there on the dining room floor with him all morning until he collapsed and started to make that horrible noise, which I suppose was a death rattle. But what if I'd gotten him to the vet sooner? Maybe they could've saved him. I didn't know he was dying! I swear I didn't. I made that chipin page and FUCKING NOBODY contributed..I mean, okay, it was only up for a few hours..but still..I just thought I'd somehow raise enough money for him to get the transfusion and in the meantime the antibiotics would help him..we only got to give him one dose of the antibiotics. I gave him the liquid one, and it seemed like he didn't swallow it totally, and then I gave him the pill, and he fought me a little bit, so I thought, "He's okay, he still has life in him, he'll be okay.." Right before he collapsed, the vet called and said "I forgot to tell you, after the liquid antibiotic, give him the syringe full of water. I don't want him getting just the liquid antibiotic without water afterwards.." and I was like "Uh well I gave him the antibiotic a half hour ago should I still give him the water now" and he said yes. So he didn't seem to like it, but he didn't collapse for another, like, 2-3 minutes..I don't think it was the water that killed him, he didn't seem to choke when I gave it to him...it was just so sudden..when I saw his side like going in really deep while he was trying to breathe and make that horrible sound I knew I had to get him to the vet..but the rasps were farther and farther apart on the car ride, the worst car ride of my whole life...I just thought they could resuscitate him..the doctor said without an autopsy (a necropsy or whatever the animal version is) she couldn't know what killed him, but since he was very, very anemic and losing a lot of blood, it might've been sudden blood loss that just caused cardiac arrest..I wanted an autopsy but of course we couldn't afford it. It's normally $300 and they offered it to us for $150 but we couldn't even afford that. My mother was still at work and they called her but the connection was bad..I told them I wasn't sure what she wanted to do, could they just keep him there until we could talk about it..
Driving home was so so so horrible..I didn't want to leave him, I should've stayed with him more..I would give anything to hold him again..my perfect, beautiful boy..I just didn't know how sick he was. I thought he'd come out of it. But his mouth didn't smell right. I know how his spit is supposed to smell, and there was a weird smell coming from his mouth..and his gums and tongue were like not the right colour..but I thought they could fix that..the antibiotics would make him stronger and then we could get the money together to treat whatever it was..My mother wanted to get Jackson to bury him in the backyard. I have heard many stories of other animals digging up buried pets. Plus, I just don't like the thought of him rotting in the ground. And I read that unless you have a wooden or metal box, ..things can get in and eat the body. And we only would've had a cardboard box. But my mom wanted to do this because it cost money to have him cremated..but then Jackson's car wouldn't start. I really, really didn't want the body just sitting in a box in our house, decomposing, until whenever Jackson got there. And the dirt in my backyard is very, very hard. I tried to make a garden there years ago. I don't even know if he could've dug that deep. So as we were pulling up to the vet, my mom was like "If money wasn't a factor, would you rather have him cremated" and I said yes..so she went in and asked for him and they brought out this cardboard box and we didn't look inside or anything but I reminded her what she'd said so she asked about cremation..it was fucking $270 for "private" cremation, where you get to keep the ashes. She just didn't have it. It was $100 for "public", where he's fucking cremated with any other animals there whose owners couldn't afford a private one, and the vet disposes of the ashes. So that is what we had to do. But I didn't want to bury him in the backyard. It might not even have been possible, with that dirt. I asked them to let me see him one more time and they said no, you're better off just remembering him..why? I was allowed to hold him the day before when he was dead..they just said "It's just better that you don't." THAT'S MY SON, I WANTED TO SEE HIM. I guess maybe rigor mortis or something made him look weird..but I still think they should've let me see him..they gave us this little clay mold of his paw print that says "Rocky". I feel horrible that we couldn't afford to keep his ashes.
I've been crying so, so, so much. I just kept saying I want to die so I can be with him. And FUCK YOU if you don't believe in God or that animals have souls. I fucking do, and I know that he is in heaven. And I just wanted to die so I could see him again. I can't imagine the rest of my life without him. I can't stand this. I have never felt this much pain in my life and never felt so unable to handle it. I remember when I was younger and guys would break up with me I would think it was the worst thing I'd ever felt, that I couldn't keep on living..I was so fucking naive, that was NOTHING. I would rather get dumped a million times than this. I'd rather be a paralyzed quadriplegic who can't speak or move any body part but still have my boy alive than this. I wish it was me instead of him. I just can't stop crying. And so I called to see if my therapist had any cancellations and somehow she actually did and of course once I mention I can't see how I can live without him she says she thinks I might need to be institutionalized. I have BEEN THERE BEFORE and that does not HELP AT ALL. Sitting in groups listening to other people whose fucking bullshit problems are NOTHING will not teach me to cope without my son. Plus, I am unable to shower in a hospital. I just can't. So I wouldn't be able to stand staying very long. And some of the doctors there might not even be familiar with the medication I'm on so what if I ran out? They might not be able to get more. Or know what it can't be taken with. I don't want to be in a hospital. I just wish I could figure out how to live with this. It's really, really hard in the morning, waking up and then remembering that my boy is gone. GONE. He's DEAD. He was the best, most brave, sweet, ferocious, handsome, loving little boy in the world.
I honestly don't care how fucked up it sounds, but this is so much harder for me than losing any of my grandparents I've lost, or my two friends. I guess because at least they were human, and with most of them I had some idea it would happen soon, and they'd lived long lives..and this was MY SON I was supposed to protect and take care of and keep safe. And he was INNOCENT and PURE. He never did anything mean or cruel or hurt anybody. He just didn't deserve this.
I just keep replaying it over and over and over. Him collapsing, how his side looked trying to take breaths and rasping. The horrible rasping and driving as fast as I could and screaming to Jesus to save him and let me get there in time. And I feel so bad that that's how Rocky died, in a cat carrier, in a car, with me frantic. But I was TERRIFIED, my worst nightmare was happening. I was just focused on getting to the vet as fast as possible. I just couldn't believe he would actually die there in the car. If I had known he was about to die, I would have reached my hand in the carrier and pet him..tried to comfort him..I did tell him I loved him so much, but I was begging him to hang on..I just feel so bad he died hearing me so frantic..but I was BY MYSELF and so so so so so scared. And then I just keep picturing him dead in that towel, and holding him..my boy, with no life in him. How on earth am I supposed to live with this? How can I ever, ever go back to any sort of normal life where I go to movies, watch TV, laugh? My son is gone. Yesterday I just kept pounding my fists on the corner where he spent his last hours and running my hands through the carpet and screaming. "YOU WERE HERE YESTERDAY. YOU WERE ALIVE. YOU WERE SITTING HERE. JUST YESTERDAY." I just can't believe it. If only I had gotten him to the vet sooner. I just thought they wouldn't take him without the money.
It was just so, so fast. He was fine a week ago, purring, jumping up on the island to be brushed, eating normally..
I just can't believe it. And most of my "friends" are atheists so I have no desire to talk to them, or any fundamentalist Christians who don't believe animals have souls. The God I believe in wouldn't make such wonderful, loving, innocent creatures and not have them go to the same place humans do. I have to see him when I die. I have to.
I really don't want to talk to anyone.
I'm just worried about when Baby is going to realise. Maybe she does, because she was sitting in his window, on his blanket..or maybe she just thinks he's temporarily gone like when he was boarded at the vet for a month to treat his wound..I'm worried about her, but she's been acting fine, purring, sleeping with me..but my mother told me I have to try to stop crying so much because it will upset Baby. I can't. I physically can't. I wish I could but it's all I can think about and I am afraid I will never get over this. I always thought that nothing would happen to my cats until I was mentally stable and could handle it. I already was barely getting by, not handling anything well, and then this happened. Out of nowhere. I keep looking at his little pawprint and picturing him dead in the blanket and it just doesn't make sense. How can my son be gone? He was just here. My poor, poor boy. He was so innocent. I can't stand this, I really can't. I don't know what to do. I don't want to go to a hospital. I just have to find a way to live with this and wake up every day and remember he is gone. He was the best boy in the whole world. He had so many skin problems and allergies, they were really bad when he was younger ,and he had to go to the vet so many times..but he never scratched or bit me, he never acted put-upon when he had to have a bandage on his leg or cone on his head..and he made it through all that. His back wound was better, his leg wound almost better. So why this? The vet called because we asked when she was back to call with an educated guess based on the file from the other vet. She just said she couldn't know for sure without being able to look inside, but it was probably a tumor..if only we'd had the money to take him for a checkup in the past year maybe we'd have caught it..
Some of Valerie's asshole friends and a few people that I considered friends would make fun of his leg wound, because at one point it was red and raw and hard to look at. They'd call it "vagina leg" or say he had leprosy or something. This hurt me so bad. I will never, ever forgive these people, even if I am friendly with them now. He couldn't help it, and he dealt with it bravely, and he was a better person, a kinder, sweeter, more benevolent soul, than 99% of the people I know. Who the fuck makes fun of a cat with a wound? Someone with bigger problems than I have.
I just feel so bad for him. All his skin problems, fucking douchebags who made fun of him, his wound and skin irritation itching him, and then he mostly got over that and then got extremely sick and died within like less than a week. He didn't deserve this. I know some people who I'd much, much rather have seen this happen to. I just love him so much. I love him. I can't stand this. It hurts so, so much.
The vet had given me the impression the antibiotics might help. Unbeknownst to me, when he called my mom to give the lab results, he actually asked if Rocky was still alive. Thus HE knew how bad off he was, but I didn't. Shortly before 2 pm Saturday, I called the emergency vet and explained the situation, that I'd been turned down for CareCredit, asking if they could work out any sort of payment plan. They said that the owners weren't there, so they couldn't authorize that, but if I could just bring in a few hundred dollars, they could at least take him in for the weekend, give him the transfusion, and then work the rest out Monday. The woman on the phone said "If there's any way you can get even a few hundred dollars, you really need to bring him in, your cat sounds pretty critical." So I called my father begging for the money. He said I should just show up there with $20, which was all I had, and say "Listen, this is all I have, but my cat is very very sick, I can pay you every week, just please see him"..and as I was talking to my father, Rocky stood up, then sort of looked dizzy, like he couldn't walk right, and collapsed onto the carpet where I had my computer. He started having a lot of trouble breathing. He was making a horrible rasping sound, and his breaths were abnormally far apart. I got off the phone and ran upstairs and got the keys to Ray's car and the carrier and when I put Rocky in the carrier, he was like a rag doll, he didn't fight me at all, he just like..fell into it in a pile..I had a very bad feeling, but he still was making noises.
So this horrible, horrible drive to the vet, which is near Plymouth Meeting Mall, was the worst. I was almost screaming, just saying "Jesus, Jesus, please, please, save him, please, let me get there in time, please don't let me lose him, please God, please protect him, please let me get there please please please..Rocky I love you so so so much please hang in there"..the rasps were getting farther apart..but I went through a red light to turn left, I drove as fast as possible in traffic..but shortly before I got to the vet, the sounds stopped. I knew what this meant but I kept thinking "maybe he passed out, or is just being quiet, or if he is gone, they can resuscitate him"..I ran in and said "Please, I don't know if my cat is alive, can you please try to revive him if not, please" and they took him right away..and then led me to a room and someone came in shortly after to say they were sorry, there was nothing they could do, there was no heartbeat. I said "But can't you use the paddles, the defibrillator thing, to shock him" and they just said no, no explanation..the girl was like "We have medications, like atropine, I could try, but I'm telling you they most likely won't work." I said "What is the likelihood that would work?" and she said "Very, very low." I SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER TO TRY IT ANYWAY. I am so fucking angry at myself that I didn't tell her to try it anyway. But I was thinking "How would we pay for that" and "What if it worked but he was brain damaged"..I just didn't know what to do..I just wish so much I'd told her to try that..I was pretty much hysterical and they kept telling me to ssh, I guess because other clients were out in the waiting room with their fucking HEALTHY ALIVE PETS..I said I needed to see him and they brought him to me wrapped in a towel and it was so, so horrible. I just held him for a half hour or so. I kissed his little perfect ears but I got tears on them so I had to wipe them off. I kissed his chin. I just held him. His eyes were open and he looked alive..it was horrible. They said they couldn't shut his eyes though. He felt like a rag doll, and if I reached up to wipe my eyes, his head would like loll back. I just can't get that image out of my head, of him in that blanket, already gone..I wish i could just hold him again, even then, when he was already gone. I would give anything to hold him again. I just can't stand this. I can't have him be gone. It happened so fast.
I didn't know he was that sick. He'd just started being lethargic and not eating in the past, like, 3 or 4 days..we thought he might just have a cold or something..I had an appointment Saturday morning, that always involves a lot of waiting, and I might not have been able to get back to my mom's until 2:30 or 3. I was trying to decide, Friday, whether to go to the appt or not, and Ray convinced me that I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Rocky and I had chosen to go. So I canceled it. And it turned out Rocky died around 2 o'clock so I would have probably still been at the appt or on a train. And my mom had work so he would've died all alone. Saturday morning he was just sitting in the corner of the dining room, occasionally drinking water but just sitting there..he'd start howling which was obviously in pain, and then he'd stop..I woke up around 9 and brought some magazines and my computer down and just lay there on the dining room floor with him all morning until he collapsed and started to make that horrible noise, which I suppose was a death rattle. But what if I'd gotten him to the vet sooner? Maybe they could've saved him. I didn't know he was dying! I swear I didn't. I made that chipin page and FUCKING NOBODY contributed..I mean, okay, it was only up for a few hours..but still..I just thought I'd somehow raise enough money for him to get the transfusion and in the meantime the antibiotics would help him..we only got to give him one dose of the antibiotics. I gave him the liquid one, and it seemed like he didn't swallow it totally, and then I gave him the pill, and he fought me a little bit, so I thought, "He's okay, he still has life in him, he'll be okay.." Right before he collapsed, the vet called and said "I forgot to tell you, after the liquid antibiotic, give him the syringe full of water. I don't want him getting just the liquid antibiotic without water afterwards.." and I was like "Uh well I gave him the antibiotic a half hour ago should I still give him the water now" and he said yes. So he didn't seem to like it, but he didn't collapse for another, like, 2-3 minutes..I don't think it was the water that killed him, he didn't seem to choke when I gave it to him...it was just so sudden..when I saw his side like going in really deep while he was trying to breathe and make that horrible sound I knew I had to get him to the vet..but the rasps were farther and farther apart on the car ride, the worst car ride of my whole life...I just thought they could resuscitate him..the doctor said without an autopsy (a necropsy or whatever the animal version is) she couldn't know what killed him, but since he was very, very anemic and losing a lot of blood, it might've been sudden blood loss that just caused cardiac arrest..I wanted an autopsy but of course we couldn't afford it. It's normally $300 and they offered it to us for $150 but we couldn't even afford that. My mother was still at work and they called her but the connection was bad..I told them I wasn't sure what she wanted to do, could they just keep him there until we could talk about it..
Driving home was so so so horrible..I didn't want to leave him, I should've stayed with him more..I would give anything to hold him again..my perfect, beautiful boy..I just didn't know how sick he was. I thought he'd come out of it. But his mouth didn't smell right. I know how his spit is supposed to smell, and there was a weird smell coming from his mouth..and his gums and tongue were like not the right colour..but I thought they could fix that..the antibiotics would make him stronger and then we could get the money together to treat whatever it was..My mother wanted to get Jackson to bury him in the backyard. I have heard many stories of other animals digging up buried pets. Plus, I just don't like the thought of him rotting in the ground. And I read that unless you have a wooden or metal box, ..things can get in and eat the body. And we only would've had a cardboard box. But my mom wanted to do this because it cost money to have him cremated..but then Jackson's car wouldn't start. I really, really didn't want the body just sitting in a box in our house, decomposing, until whenever Jackson got there. And the dirt in my backyard is very, very hard. I tried to make a garden there years ago. I don't even know if he could've dug that deep. So as we were pulling up to the vet, my mom was like "If money wasn't a factor, would you rather have him cremated" and I said yes..so she went in and asked for him and they brought out this cardboard box and we didn't look inside or anything but I reminded her what she'd said so she asked about cremation..it was fucking $270 for "private" cremation, where you get to keep the ashes. She just didn't have it. It was $100 for "public", where he's fucking cremated with any other animals there whose owners couldn't afford a private one, and the vet disposes of the ashes. So that is what we had to do. But I didn't want to bury him in the backyard. It might not even have been possible, with that dirt. I asked them to let me see him one more time and they said no, you're better off just remembering him..why? I was allowed to hold him the day before when he was dead..they just said "It's just better that you don't." THAT'S MY SON, I WANTED TO SEE HIM. I guess maybe rigor mortis or something made him look weird..but I still think they should've let me see him..they gave us this little clay mold of his paw print that says "Rocky". I feel horrible that we couldn't afford to keep his ashes.
I've been crying so, so, so much. I just kept saying I want to die so I can be with him. And FUCK YOU if you don't believe in God or that animals have souls. I fucking do, and I know that he is in heaven. And I just wanted to die so I could see him again. I can't imagine the rest of my life without him. I can't stand this. I have never felt this much pain in my life and never felt so unable to handle it. I remember when I was younger and guys would break up with me I would think it was the worst thing I'd ever felt, that I couldn't keep on living..I was so fucking naive, that was NOTHING. I would rather get dumped a million times than this. I'd rather be a paralyzed quadriplegic who can't speak or move any body part but still have my boy alive than this. I wish it was me instead of him. I just can't stop crying. And so I called to see if my therapist had any cancellations and somehow she actually did and of course once I mention I can't see how I can live without him she says she thinks I might need to be institutionalized. I have BEEN THERE BEFORE and that does not HELP AT ALL. Sitting in groups listening to other people whose fucking bullshit problems are NOTHING will not teach me to cope without my son. Plus, I am unable to shower in a hospital. I just can't. So I wouldn't be able to stand staying very long. And some of the doctors there might not even be familiar with the medication I'm on so what if I ran out? They might not be able to get more. Or know what it can't be taken with. I don't want to be in a hospital. I just wish I could figure out how to live with this. It's really, really hard in the morning, waking up and then remembering that my boy is gone. GONE. He's DEAD. He was the best, most brave, sweet, ferocious, handsome, loving little boy in the world.
I honestly don't care how fucked up it sounds, but this is so much harder for me than losing any of my grandparents I've lost, or my two friends. I guess because at least they were human, and with most of them I had some idea it would happen soon, and they'd lived long lives..and this was MY SON I was supposed to protect and take care of and keep safe. And he was INNOCENT and PURE. He never did anything mean or cruel or hurt anybody. He just didn't deserve this.
I just keep replaying it over and over and over. Him collapsing, how his side looked trying to take breaths and rasping. The horrible rasping and driving as fast as I could and screaming to Jesus to save him and let me get there in time. And I feel so bad that that's how Rocky died, in a cat carrier, in a car, with me frantic. But I was TERRIFIED, my worst nightmare was happening. I was just focused on getting to the vet as fast as possible. I just couldn't believe he would actually die there in the car. If I had known he was about to die, I would have reached my hand in the carrier and pet him..tried to comfort him..I did tell him I loved him so much, but I was begging him to hang on..I just feel so bad he died hearing me so frantic..but I was BY MYSELF and so so so so so scared. And then I just keep picturing him dead in that towel, and holding him..my boy, with no life in him. How on earth am I supposed to live with this? How can I ever, ever go back to any sort of normal life where I go to movies, watch TV, laugh? My son is gone. Yesterday I just kept pounding my fists on the corner where he spent his last hours and running my hands through the carpet and screaming. "YOU WERE HERE YESTERDAY. YOU WERE ALIVE. YOU WERE SITTING HERE. JUST YESTERDAY." I just can't believe it. If only I had gotten him to the vet sooner. I just thought they wouldn't take him without the money.
It was just so, so fast. He was fine a week ago, purring, jumping up on the island to be brushed, eating normally..
I just can't believe it. And most of my "friends" are atheists so I have no desire to talk to them, or any fundamentalist Christians who don't believe animals have souls. The God I believe in wouldn't make such wonderful, loving, innocent creatures and not have them go to the same place humans do. I have to see him when I die. I have to.
I really don't want to talk to anyone.
I'm just worried about when Baby is going to realise. Maybe she does, because she was sitting in his window, on his blanket..or maybe she just thinks he's temporarily gone like when he was boarded at the vet for a month to treat his wound..I'm worried about her, but she's been acting fine, purring, sleeping with me..but my mother told me I have to try to stop crying so much because it will upset Baby. I can't. I physically can't. I wish I could but it's all I can think about and I am afraid I will never get over this. I always thought that nothing would happen to my cats until I was mentally stable and could handle it. I already was barely getting by, not handling anything well, and then this happened. Out of nowhere. I keep looking at his little pawprint and picturing him dead in the blanket and it just doesn't make sense. How can my son be gone? He was just here. My poor, poor boy. He was so innocent. I can't stand this, I really can't. I don't know what to do. I don't want to go to a hospital. I just have to find a way to live with this and wake up every day and remember he is gone. He was the best boy in the whole world. He had so many skin problems and allergies, they were really bad when he was younger ,and he had to go to the vet so many times..but he never scratched or bit me, he never acted put-upon when he had to have a bandage on his leg or cone on his head..and he made it through all that. His back wound was better, his leg wound almost better. So why this? The vet called because we asked when she was back to call with an educated guess based on the file from the other vet. She just said she couldn't know for sure without being able to look inside, but it was probably a tumor..if only we'd had the money to take him for a checkup in the past year maybe we'd have caught it..
Some of Valerie's asshole friends and a few people that I considered friends would make fun of his leg wound, because at one point it was red and raw and hard to look at. They'd call it "vagina leg" or say he had leprosy or something. This hurt me so bad. I will never, ever forgive these people, even if I am friendly with them now. He couldn't help it, and he dealt with it bravely, and he was a better person, a kinder, sweeter, more benevolent soul, than 99% of the people I know. Who the fuck makes fun of a cat with a wound? Someone with bigger problems than I have.
I just feel so bad for him. All his skin problems, fucking douchebags who made fun of him, his wound and skin irritation itching him, and then he mostly got over that and then got extremely sick and died within like less than a week. He didn't deserve this. I know some people who I'd much, much rather have seen this happen to. I just love him so much. I love him. I can't stand this. It hurts so, so much.