Nearing the end for Mia
Mia has been declining significantly the past few weeks. The past few days have been even more stark. We have her on sterroids, but they don't seem to be having much effect. All food she eats comes because we force it into her. In the past she has done some drinking, but not much now if any.
At the moment we have her sequestered in my office. Tonight after Anna's birthday party, we're going to open the door and quarter off anywhere weird she could go hide. If she comes out and assumes some sort of life, we'll let things play out. If she continues to hide and refuse even force-fed food, we're looking at one last trip to the vet this week.
I am sad, terribly so. But she is also seriously ill. Seriously, seriously ill, and she looks it. Her face is shrunken from weight loss and her head is too big for her body. She can barely walk for the tumors. For a while last week there was a light in her eye, but even that seems to be fading now.
It's hard to know what to hope for. Part of me almost hopes this is it, because selfishly, I'd like it over. But yes, it'd be nice for one last time for everything. Again and again and again. Maybe that's why it would be easier to cut it off now: one more would never be enough.
Mostly I don't wish her to suffer. She has been my friend so long. My desire to see her at peace far exceeds my desire to selfishly keep her around.
I'm not quite sure what feline spirits do when they leave their body. My spiritual beliefs are complex and difficult to describe, but I know she'll do something. What I do know is that somewhere at the Rainbow Bridge, Gulliver is rising from the grass, twitching his tail and ending his nine year wait for his sister to come home.
At the moment we have her sequestered in my office. Tonight after Anna's birthday party, we're going to open the door and quarter off anywhere weird she could go hide. If she comes out and assumes some sort of life, we'll let things play out. If she continues to hide and refuse even force-fed food, we're looking at one last trip to the vet this week.
I am sad, terribly so. But she is also seriously ill. Seriously, seriously ill, and she looks it. Her face is shrunken from weight loss and her head is too big for her body. She can barely walk for the tumors. For a while last week there was a light in her eye, but even that seems to be fading now.
It's hard to know what to hope for. Part of me almost hopes this is it, because selfishly, I'd like it over. But yes, it'd be nice for one last time for everything. Again and again and again. Maybe that's why it would be easier to cut it off now: one more would never be enough.
Mostly I don't wish her to suffer. She has been my friend so long. My desire to see her at peace far exceeds my desire to selfishly keep her around.
I'm not quite sure what feline spirits do when they leave their body. My spiritual beliefs are complex and difficult to describe, but I know she'll do something. What I do know is that somewhere at the Rainbow Bridge, Gulliver is rising from the grass, twitching his tail and ending his nine year wait for his sister to come home.