I don't know what to do
Over the last 6 weeks or so, my cat's health has deteriorated. It became obvious that he has gone completely deaf. Then, he started being picky about food, and lost a lot of weight. I made plans to take him to see the vet, but then I lost my job (they found out about my credit card theft misdemeanor) at the beginning of this month.
The appetite loss and weight loss continued, and he started drinking any water he could find rather often. I didn't notice he was drinking excessively, because after my job loss I've been staying in bed most of every day. I did notice the not eating problem, and bought him the smelliest most flavorful canned catfood I could afford. He ate some of it but began to leave most of the food uneaten after a while.
I expressed my worry to a friend recently about his health and how I can't afford the vet at this point (because he would need more than just a physical exam) and she offered to "take him to the vet" but I didn't ask what she meant by that. I guess I was afraid that she was offering to only give me a ride. And afraid that if she was offering to pay for it, that she'd be in for a shock and I know she can't afford to help out a whole lot in that way.
Then, in the past week things went especially bad very fast.
Last Friday night I woke up to Kitz's habitual howling. (He has done that for a couple of years now, presumably due to some sort of dementia. He howls if I'm not in the room and forgets where I am. He stops if I go to him, though.) I went to him to reassure him, but he didn't seem to notice me walking up to him. He continued howling and stared right through me. It wasn't until I touched him that he stopped, and the touch seemed to surprise him.
I decided to try to get him to eat something while I was up, so I opened a can of cat food. He didn't notice me go to the cat food area. I waved the catfood under his nose, and then put it back in the food area. He just looked around, confused. By now, of course, I suspected he couldn't see. But I didn't know what to do and if it was real or if he was just having some kind of new mental episode.
My boyfriend Scott was over that night, asleep during this, and so I took Kitz with me and we got back into bed. I worried all night but didn't say anything, and just kept the cat with me. In the morning, we got up and I explained what had happened last night. Kitz's pupils were huge, completely black. You couldn't see the irises at all. It's dim in my room, so I took Kitz into the daylight and his pupils didn't dilate at all. Not a bit. They looked glassy too.
This was bad. I called Kitz's local veterinarian, but by that time they were closing for the day. I called other local vets and they would only agree to take an emergency if the pet was already a patient there. All the vets referred me to an emergency veterinary center in Indianapolis (50 miles away).
After some deliberation with my boyfriend, I called them and they convinced me to go ahead and take him there. He said something about helping out some and briefly discussed how much or how little money I had. We were all very somber and I was panicky and not much discussion was had. He just quietly helped me get Kitz ready to travel, and drove us to Indianapolis in almost complete silence.
During the car ride, I let kitz out of the cat carrier to sit on my lap, and his pupils had dilated some. He appeared to be able to see, somewhat. I felt silly making Scott drive all the way but we continued and brought him into the clinic.
After waiting in an exam room for half an hour, a tech informed us the only doctor on duty had to perform emergency surgery on a dog, and did we mind waiting an hour or so? Fine, we waited an hour and a half in this cold, clinical, room with no decorations or posters or even anything in the cabinets and drawers. This emergency clinic had 12 identical exam rooms, mind you. In the next room over, I heard some soft moaning and assumed it was a dog or cat in pain. Curiosity got the better of me and I walked past the room (they all had windows) and saw a dog lying on the floor, and a college aged girl lying on the floor with her arms around the dog. She was the one making the noise - she was sobbing and had been for a while. I don't know why. Maybe she'd been informed her dog was going to die and they left her in there to be alone with the dog or something along those lines. Maybe worse.
Also while we waited, I ventured into the lobby to find some reading material. There were two choices of reading material: A shelf of books by L. Ron Hubbard, and a newspaper called the "Golden Gazette." Google it. Also on the bookshelf was a notice posted saying "Dr. Speiser contributes these books to [some middle school]'s reading program because he supports their message and supports literacy in schools." So, Dr. Speiser is a scientologist. I went to tell Scott, because what else did we have to talk about? He said "Eh, what can we do? Nothing." I wasn't very informed on scientology and assumed it was a weirdo cult and this Speiser fellow was insane.
The vet (not Dr. Speiser) finally showed up to do a brief physical exam and hear about Kitz's recent symptoms. After feeling up the cat and doing little vision tests, he determined Kitz could now see light and motion, but I knew that already. He also pointed out that he was severely dehydrated and that Kitz's skin had a yellowish tint. Two things I hadn't noticed before. He went over likely reasons all of this was happening. The reasons involved kidney and liver failure mostly.
He then recommended blood and urine tests to be sure of the state his liver and kidneys were in, and they took Kitz into the back area. After an hour and a half in this sterile, totally boring exam room, a vet tech brought Kitz back. They'd shaved his neck to draw blood and it was already rather bruised looking at the needle site. The tech advised us to wait "just a while" for the vet to come back to go over the results and recommendations.
Another hour passed. While we waited, I saw several other people and their pets come into the other exam rooms to wait. They looked just as stressed and impatient and worried as I did and it just made it worse. I took Scott's car to go get food just to get out of there for a while.
Finally, a different veterinarian came on shift and she (also not Speiser) came in to go over Kitz's test results. By then it was dark and we'd been there almost 6 hours. They couldn't get any urine sample from him, but they ran a blood test and she went over all the various levels of things on it. It was all medical terminology I didn't understand but she said some things were much higher or lower than they were supposed to be. She couldn't tell what they indicated because these blood levels could be related to his dehydration or his lack of any food, and not necessarily any ongoing condition.
She recommended we "get him to eat anything you can" and "keep him hydrated". Finally, she said "I know you want to take him home, but I strongly recommend hospitalizing him here. I know he doesn't have any infections or anything, but we need to keep him on an IV overnight and see what might be going on. Sign this form if you want to take him home anyway. The form says you acknowledged our strong recommendation to keep him overnight. Also, it's not too soon to think about euthanasia."
I was shocked that she just said that, abrubptly like that, while I was signing the form. I requested they give Kitz some subcutaneous fluids, so they took him one last time, the tech brought him back with the fluids in his shoulder, and some antibiotic liquid medicine. I don't know why. He didn't have an infection, and the tech didn't specify why I needed to give him the medicine.
By this time we'd already been racked up a $350 bill for the exam and blood test and etc. I know I should have let them keep Kitz to monitor him, but I couldn't bear leaving him in this weird place in another city overnight, and making Scott drive back and forth to get him, and then of course the money. Scott paid $250 of the bill and I used some of my last money to pay the rest. Neither of us could afford anymore. Scott is already supporting me in many ways since I lost my job.
We took Kitz home and kept close watch of him for the next 24 hours. Scott googled the blood test company whose name was on the printout - apparently it is also run by scientologists. On Monday morning I had resolved to call his local vet. The emergency clinic said they'd fax his blood test results to the local vet, and I'd assured the vet I would take Kitz to see them Monday morning. But on Monday I didn't. I just didn't know what to do. I nor anyone I know can afford any more tests, much less any treatments or surgery. And I didn't call on Tuesday, Wednesday, or today, either.
Meanwhile, I keep having to hand-deliver small bowls of water to Kitz in bed because that is the only way he'll drink. He won't eat anything but a small amount of the gravy from canned cat food, and today he wouldn't even lick that. Ever since we got back from that emergency clinic, he has been walking funny, as if he were severely off balance. And yesterday I noticed that he's favoring one leg over the other, and that his tail has gone limp. It just hangs there and he doesn't move it for any reason, even to balance or to curl up or any other natural things that a cat does with his tail. And two days ago, he went totally blind and his pupils wouldn't dilate again. It went away after a few hours, but his irises are orange instead of yellow and his pupils look glassy and blurred. The vet said something about hoping blood wasn't building up behind his eyes. I am so panicked that one of these hours Kitz's eyeball will just explode.
So without his tail, and with the problem with the one leg, and the deafness and newly worsened vision, he of course is having trouble getting around. He can't even scratch himself without losing balance and falling over. He even fell off the bed, desk, and chair on a few occasions when I wasn't looking and he was trying to walk across them or climb on them. It's as if he's a stumbling drunk, if you can picture that, but it's not funny. It's so sad and I feel like such a horrible person for letting all this happen. Letting him get worse after I knew I should let him receive more medical care.
But what can I do? I have no money. I could maybe go back to Indianapolis, at a different time of day when the same people aren't on shift, and give false information when I check in, and let them treat him. However, I do know they require a $150 deposit for "inpatient intake." So I'd have to do that and then the next morning or whatever maybe when they give him back then I could just sneak out and run away without paying. But that's not realistic. Scott wouldn't let me borrow his car if he knew I was going to go do that. And it's unlikely I wouldn't run into one of the same people I saw in my 7 hours there on Saturday. Maybe I could just do the fake identity thing at a different vet, here in town... I don't know.
I feel so horribly guilty. Scott feels I wasted his money and is encouraging me that there is nothing I can do. Like if I get a job or a large sum of money magically, I can do what I want regarding Kitz, but since nobody has enough money to really do anything, apparently I have no choice but to sit and watch Kitz waste away.
I mostly feel guilty because I let this happen to my cat. If only I had taken him to the vet before I lost my job this could maybe have been prevented. I can't sleep most of the night because I am worried about crushing Kitz (if he's in bed with me) because he is nothing but a skeleton now. He has no fat and the vet said he burned a lot of muscle mass too. And if Kitz isn't in the bed it means he's up trying to do something.
He might be up peeing on the floor. That's right, since the emergency clinic, he pees on the floor. I know that is his way of telling me something's wrong. I know, Kitz. I know. I don't know what to do. Or, he might be trying to climb the stairs. For some reason he wants to hang out upstairs for the past two days, except when he tries to climb the stairs, it's very slow and clumsly, like an old person would, and on some of the steps, he stumbles and almost falls. I am worried he is going to tumble down the stairs and break bones or be horribly bruised. You can feel every joint in his body when you pet him. So I don't sleep well, and do what I can to keep him comfortable on my bed, and try to get him to eat but he won't.
I don't really have anyone other than Scott to talk to or be with during this, and that makes it doubly worse. He sees me worrying and I guess he either doesn't know what to say or doesn't want to deal with it. He's said multiple times that there is nothing I can do without money, and thus implied that we should just let Kitz be. I don't know how he can say that. He likes Kitz, they have bonded too.
I wish I knew if he even felt a twinge of the kind of guilt and helplessness that I feel. If he does he isn't saying anything about it. It makes him seem so uncaring and unfeeling to me even though he does care. I'm so blindsided by everything, including my own guilt over him spending money on Kitz.
I feel so horrible. I let this happen. I don't know why I didn't try harder and now it's probably too late. I dug my grave and now I have to lie in it. Even euthanasia costs money and have nowhere respectable to put the body. I wouldn't bury him here because I just rent this place and someday I won't live here and thus can't come back to visit the grave. And cremation is expensive. And I've been thinking about these things for the past year, even before Kitz got sick. I don't WANT to think about them but the thoughts are just there. What am I going to do when he dies? I thought I was prepared but not now. He might die on me any day now and I'll just feel even more guilty and shitty and this is no way to live when I myself am unemployed, depressed, and even I'm starting to not eat or move around much.
I haven't felt suicidal in almost 10 years and I'm wondering if I do now, or if it is just a serious feeling of guilt and remorse. I keep thinking that if I sacrificed myself for Kitz then it might partially atone for the horrible things I have let happen to him this week, watching him deteriorate before my eyes, but then I realize that makes no sense in any practical way. It won't earn any money. No one would be vigilant in loving and caring for him if I did that. It's not a logical thought, just a very emotional one. But it keeps coming into my head as the largest gesture I could do to even attempt to make up for what I've done. And not just recently. I've been such a shitty caretaker all my life. Losing job after job, not affording regular care for my own mental health much less Kitz's physical health, moving him around so much, giving him to strangers when I was homeless, and so on...
But enough about me. I just don't know what to do. There aren't charity agencies that help with costs for cats in need like this. Only for humans. Nobody, not even Scott, seems to understand that Kitz is like a child and best friend to me. I've taken care of this cat for 18 years. We've been bonded since I was a 10 year old little girl. Nobody understands that I would do just about anything to save him or make him comfortable at the very least. If i only could. I don't know what I am going to do.
Edited to add: Kitz managed to eat three cat treats just now. It took like five minutes. I had to keep dropping them in front of his face, and then he'd go after them. He wouldn't eat them if I just set them down. He wouldn't eat the whole handful of them, though. He also is chewing them oddly (they are soft moist treats) as if it's painful.
Also, I don't deserve anyone's charity. I'm such a horrible person with my own past of stealing and lying, that I don't even deserve the nice things that have already been done for me. I think what is happening with Kitz is the final, ultimate payment for what a horrible person I've been and what a miserable failure at everything I turned out to be. It's like the universe has thrown all these bad things at me before, that I managed to get through... all the homelessness and brokeness and unemployment and depression and suddenly moving and the breakups and just all of it... and said "well, take THIS, Katy, I warned you. I'll take away the only person who truly loves you and make you watch him suffer first. Then you'll have what you deserve and we'll be even." But why would the universe make another person, Kitz, suffer, just to teach me this lesson? I just don't know, and it isn't fair to him.
The appetite loss and weight loss continued, and he started drinking any water he could find rather often. I didn't notice he was drinking excessively, because after my job loss I've been staying in bed most of every day. I did notice the not eating problem, and bought him the smelliest most flavorful canned catfood I could afford. He ate some of it but began to leave most of the food uneaten after a while.
I expressed my worry to a friend recently about his health and how I can't afford the vet at this point (because he would need more than just a physical exam) and she offered to "take him to the vet" but I didn't ask what she meant by that. I guess I was afraid that she was offering to only give me a ride. And afraid that if she was offering to pay for it, that she'd be in for a shock and I know she can't afford to help out a whole lot in that way.
Then, in the past week things went especially bad very fast.
Last Friday night I woke up to Kitz's habitual howling. (He has done that for a couple of years now, presumably due to some sort of dementia. He howls if I'm not in the room and forgets where I am. He stops if I go to him, though.) I went to him to reassure him, but he didn't seem to notice me walking up to him. He continued howling and stared right through me. It wasn't until I touched him that he stopped, and the touch seemed to surprise him.
I decided to try to get him to eat something while I was up, so I opened a can of cat food. He didn't notice me go to the cat food area. I waved the catfood under his nose, and then put it back in the food area. He just looked around, confused. By now, of course, I suspected he couldn't see. But I didn't know what to do and if it was real or if he was just having some kind of new mental episode.
My boyfriend Scott was over that night, asleep during this, and so I took Kitz with me and we got back into bed. I worried all night but didn't say anything, and just kept the cat with me. In the morning, we got up and I explained what had happened last night. Kitz's pupils were huge, completely black. You couldn't see the irises at all. It's dim in my room, so I took Kitz into the daylight and his pupils didn't dilate at all. Not a bit. They looked glassy too.
This was bad. I called Kitz's local veterinarian, but by that time they were closing for the day. I called other local vets and they would only agree to take an emergency if the pet was already a patient there. All the vets referred me to an emergency veterinary center in Indianapolis (50 miles away).
After some deliberation with my boyfriend, I called them and they convinced me to go ahead and take him there. He said something about helping out some and briefly discussed how much or how little money I had. We were all very somber and I was panicky and not much discussion was had. He just quietly helped me get Kitz ready to travel, and drove us to Indianapolis in almost complete silence.
During the car ride, I let kitz out of the cat carrier to sit on my lap, and his pupils had dilated some. He appeared to be able to see, somewhat. I felt silly making Scott drive all the way but we continued and brought him into the clinic.
After waiting in an exam room for half an hour, a tech informed us the only doctor on duty had to perform emergency surgery on a dog, and did we mind waiting an hour or so? Fine, we waited an hour and a half in this cold, clinical, room with no decorations or posters or even anything in the cabinets and drawers. This emergency clinic had 12 identical exam rooms, mind you. In the next room over, I heard some soft moaning and assumed it was a dog or cat in pain. Curiosity got the better of me and I walked past the room (they all had windows) and saw a dog lying on the floor, and a college aged girl lying on the floor with her arms around the dog. She was the one making the noise - she was sobbing and had been for a while. I don't know why. Maybe she'd been informed her dog was going to die and they left her in there to be alone with the dog or something along those lines. Maybe worse.
Also while we waited, I ventured into the lobby to find some reading material. There were two choices of reading material: A shelf of books by L. Ron Hubbard, and a newspaper called the "Golden Gazette." Google it. Also on the bookshelf was a notice posted saying "Dr. Speiser contributes these books to [some middle school]'s reading program because he supports their message and supports literacy in schools." So, Dr. Speiser is a scientologist. I went to tell Scott, because what else did we have to talk about? He said "Eh, what can we do? Nothing." I wasn't very informed on scientology and assumed it was a weirdo cult and this Speiser fellow was insane.
The vet (not Dr. Speiser) finally showed up to do a brief physical exam and hear about Kitz's recent symptoms. After feeling up the cat and doing little vision tests, he determined Kitz could now see light and motion, but I knew that already. He also pointed out that he was severely dehydrated and that Kitz's skin had a yellowish tint. Two things I hadn't noticed before. He went over likely reasons all of this was happening. The reasons involved kidney and liver failure mostly.
He then recommended blood and urine tests to be sure of the state his liver and kidneys were in, and they took Kitz into the back area. After an hour and a half in this sterile, totally boring exam room, a vet tech brought Kitz back. They'd shaved his neck to draw blood and it was already rather bruised looking at the needle site. The tech advised us to wait "just a while" for the vet to come back to go over the results and recommendations.
Another hour passed. While we waited, I saw several other people and their pets come into the other exam rooms to wait. They looked just as stressed and impatient and worried as I did and it just made it worse. I took Scott's car to go get food just to get out of there for a while.
Finally, a different veterinarian came on shift and she (also not Speiser) came in to go over Kitz's test results. By then it was dark and we'd been there almost 6 hours. They couldn't get any urine sample from him, but they ran a blood test and she went over all the various levels of things on it. It was all medical terminology I didn't understand but she said some things were much higher or lower than they were supposed to be. She couldn't tell what they indicated because these blood levels could be related to his dehydration or his lack of any food, and not necessarily any ongoing condition.
She recommended we "get him to eat anything you can" and "keep him hydrated". Finally, she said "I know you want to take him home, but I strongly recommend hospitalizing him here. I know he doesn't have any infections or anything, but we need to keep him on an IV overnight and see what might be going on. Sign this form if you want to take him home anyway. The form says you acknowledged our strong recommendation to keep him overnight. Also, it's not too soon to think about euthanasia."
I was shocked that she just said that, abrubptly like that, while I was signing the form. I requested they give Kitz some subcutaneous fluids, so they took him one last time, the tech brought him back with the fluids in his shoulder, and some antibiotic liquid medicine. I don't know why. He didn't have an infection, and the tech didn't specify why I needed to give him the medicine.
By this time we'd already been racked up a $350 bill for the exam and blood test and etc. I know I should have let them keep Kitz to monitor him, but I couldn't bear leaving him in this weird place in another city overnight, and making Scott drive back and forth to get him, and then of course the money. Scott paid $250 of the bill and I used some of my last money to pay the rest. Neither of us could afford anymore. Scott is already supporting me in many ways since I lost my job.
We took Kitz home and kept close watch of him for the next 24 hours. Scott googled the blood test company whose name was on the printout - apparently it is also run by scientologists. On Monday morning I had resolved to call his local vet. The emergency clinic said they'd fax his blood test results to the local vet, and I'd assured the vet I would take Kitz to see them Monday morning. But on Monday I didn't. I just didn't know what to do. I nor anyone I know can afford any more tests, much less any treatments or surgery. And I didn't call on Tuesday, Wednesday, or today, either.
Meanwhile, I keep having to hand-deliver small bowls of water to Kitz in bed because that is the only way he'll drink. He won't eat anything but a small amount of the gravy from canned cat food, and today he wouldn't even lick that. Ever since we got back from that emergency clinic, he has been walking funny, as if he were severely off balance. And yesterday I noticed that he's favoring one leg over the other, and that his tail has gone limp. It just hangs there and he doesn't move it for any reason, even to balance or to curl up or any other natural things that a cat does with his tail. And two days ago, he went totally blind and his pupils wouldn't dilate again. It went away after a few hours, but his irises are orange instead of yellow and his pupils look glassy and blurred. The vet said something about hoping blood wasn't building up behind his eyes. I am so panicked that one of these hours Kitz's eyeball will just explode.
So without his tail, and with the problem with the one leg, and the deafness and newly worsened vision, he of course is having trouble getting around. He can't even scratch himself without losing balance and falling over. He even fell off the bed, desk, and chair on a few occasions when I wasn't looking and he was trying to walk across them or climb on them. It's as if he's a stumbling drunk, if you can picture that, but it's not funny. It's so sad and I feel like such a horrible person for letting all this happen. Letting him get worse after I knew I should let him receive more medical care.
But what can I do? I have no money. I could maybe go back to Indianapolis, at a different time of day when the same people aren't on shift, and give false information when I check in, and let them treat him. However, I do know they require a $150 deposit for "inpatient intake." So I'd have to do that and then the next morning or whatever maybe when they give him back then I could just sneak out and run away without paying. But that's not realistic. Scott wouldn't let me borrow his car if he knew I was going to go do that. And it's unlikely I wouldn't run into one of the same people I saw in my 7 hours there on Saturday. Maybe I could just do the fake identity thing at a different vet, here in town... I don't know.
I feel so horribly guilty. Scott feels I wasted his money and is encouraging me that there is nothing I can do. Like if I get a job or a large sum of money magically, I can do what I want regarding Kitz, but since nobody has enough money to really do anything, apparently I have no choice but to sit and watch Kitz waste away.
I mostly feel guilty because I let this happen to my cat. If only I had taken him to the vet before I lost my job this could maybe have been prevented. I can't sleep most of the night because I am worried about crushing Kitz (if he's in bed with me) because he is nothing but a skeleton now. He has no fat and the vet said he burned a lot of muscle mass too. And if Kitz isn't in the bed it means he's up trying to do something.
He might be up peeing on the floor. That's right, since the emergency clinic, he pees on the floor. I know that is his way of telling me something's wrong. I know, Kitz. I know. I don't know what to do. Or, he might be trying to climb the stairs. For some reason he wants to hang out upstairs for the past two days, except when he tries to climb the stairs, it's very slow and clumsly, like an old person would, and on some of the steps, he stumbles and almost falls. I am worried he is going to tumble down the stairs and break bones or be horribly bruised. You can feel every joint in his body when you pet him. So I don't sleep well, and do what I can to keep him comfortable on my bed, and try to get him to eat but he won't.
I don't really have anyone other than Scott to talk to or be with during this, and that makes it doubly worse. He sees me worrying and I guess he either doesn't know what to say or doesn't want to deal with it. He's said multiple times that there is nothing I can do without money, and thus implied that we should just let Kitz be. I don't know how he can say that. He likes Kitz, they have bonded too.
I wish I knew if he even felt a twinge of the kind of guilt and helplessness that I feel. If he does he isn't saying anything about it. It makes him seem so uncaring and unfeeling to me even though he does care. I'm so blindsided by everything, including my own guilt over him spending money on Kitz.
I feel so horrible. I let this happen. I don't know why I didn't try harder and now it's probably too late. I dug my grave and now I have to lie in it. Even euthanasia costs money and have nowhere respectable to put the body. I wouldn't bury him here because I just rent this place and someday I won't live here and thus can't come back to visit the grave. And cremation is expensive. And I've been thinking about these things for the past year, even before Kitz got sick. I don't WANT to think about them but the thoughts are just there. What am I going to do when he dies? I thought I was prepared but not now. He might die on me any day now and I'll just feel even more guilty and shitty and this is no way to live when I myself am unemployed, depressed, and even I'm starting to not eat or move around much.
I haven't felt suicidal in almost 10 years and I'm wondering if I do now, or if it is just a serious feeling of guilt and remorse. I keep thinking that if I sacrificed myself for Kitz then it might partially atone for the horrible things I have let happen to him this week, watching him deteriorate before my eyes, but then I realize that makes no sense in any practical way. It won't earn any money. No one would be vigilant in loving and caring for him if I did that. It's not a logical thought, just a very emotional one. But it keeps coming into my head as the largest gesture I could do to even attempt to make up for what I've done. And not just recently. I've been such a shitty caretaker all my life. Losing job after job, not affording regular care for my own mental health much less Kitz's physical health, moving him around so much, giving him to strangers when I was homeless, and so on...
But enough about me. I just don't know what to do. There aren't charity agencies that help with costs for cats in need like this. Only for humans. Nobody, not even Scott, seems to understand that Kitz is like a child and best friend to me. I've taken care of this cat for 18 years. We've been bonded since I was a 10 year old little girl. Nobody understands that I would do just about anything to save him or make him comfortable at the very least. If i only could. I don't know what I am going to do.
Edited to add: Kitz managed to eat three cat treats just now. It took like five minutes. I had to keep dropping them in front of his face, and then he'd go after them. He wouldn't eat them if I just set them down. He wouldn't eat the whole handful of them, though. He also is chewing them oddly (they are soft moist treats) as if it's painful.
Also, I don't deserve anyone's charity. I'm such a horrible person with my own past of stealing and lying, that I don't even deserve the nice things that have already been done for me. I think what is happening with Kitz is the final, ultimate payment for what a horrible person I've been and what a miserable failure at everything I turned out to be. It's like the universe has thrown all these bad things at me before, that I managed to get through... all the homelessness and brokeness and unemployment and depression and suddenly moving and the breakups and just all of it... and said "well, take THIS, Katy, I warned you. I'll take away the only person who truly loves you and make you watch him suffer first. Then you'll have what you deserve and we'll be even." But why would the universe make another person, Kitz, suffer, just to teach me this lesson? I just don't know, and it isn't fair to him.