(no subject)
Baby's condition was getting worse; she was rapidly losing weight, and while that stabilized somewhat, the abscess on her chest wasn't getting any better, and was bleeding all over. Because she was an older cat, I was hesitant to have her go under the knife. Both financially and physically, I didn't think it could be done. Eventually, however, I couldn't stand watching her suffer anymore.
Grandma complained about the blood, while I treated it regularly it seemed unavoidable. Yet she treated it like a hassle, like it was a choice of Baby's.
Baby was an intelligent cat that I raised with care, and I loved her for years. And she loved me. She listened faithfully to everything I told her. If I wanted her to come, she came, if I wanted her to go, she went, if I wanted her to stop, she did. If she wanted to eat, drink, relax with me, she let me know, and if she felt threatened, she took shelter with me.
I couldn't stand the idea of taking her to the vet myself. Watching her weak, scared and confused, only to be put down for it... the thought was more than I could bare.
Yesterday I called Dad, asking him to take Baby to the vet, as a favor. And he was able to, today, and it was there she was put down.
And I wanted to know as little about it as possible. Gramma began to explain her end of it, and I immediately stopped her, with no room for misinterpretation. I did not want to hear any more.
While I wouldn't go as far as saying I regret the decision, I am wracked with regret that I didn't do more to say goodbye, with any finality.
But it seems like there are no shortcuts.
While I knew it was coming and it was only a matter of time, once I learned that it was done, I was wracked with regret, that I gave away any finality, and all because I'm just a weak person.
I fear that any relief that I would've gotten in that I no longer have to worry about her worsening condition will be negated by a growing feeling of regret.
It certainly isn't within my projected expectations.
There's a feeling of anger and anxiety, futility... and while I figured that it was coming, I figured it would be within guidelines. But it greatly exceeds it. And the exceeding occurred all at once, which is the marvel of it. I thought I was beyond such rapid fluctuation of emotions like that. It seems naive of me.
The worst part is that I worked all day myself, so I had no chance for catharsis. I was forced to keep up a workstyle persona the whole time, mincing my own thoughts. I don't feel like other times, where I can't even be distracted from how shitty I feel. And so in yet another way I am left in an awkward feeling of helplessness and loss. ...How emo sounding.
Ugh, I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess it's all part of the futility.
Grandma complained about the blood, while I treated it regularly it seemed unavoidable. Yet she treated it like a hassle, like it was a choice of Baby's.
Baby was an intelligent cat that I raised with care, and I loved her for years. And she loved me. She listened faithfully to everything I told her. If I wanted her to come, she came, if I wanted her to go, she went, if I wanted her to stop, she did. If she wanted to eat, drink, relax with me, she let me know, and if she felt threatened, she took shelter with me.
I couldn't stand the idea of taking her to the vet myself. Watching her weak, scared and confused, only to be put down for it... the thought was more than I could bare.
Yesterday I called Dad, asking him to take Baby to the vet, as a favor. And he was able to, today, and it was there she was put down.
And I wanted to know as little about it as possible. Gramma began to explain her end of it, and I immediately stopped her, with no room for misinterpretation. I did not want to hear any more.
While I wouldn't go as far as saying I regret the decision, I am wracked with regret that I didn't do more to say goodbye, with any finality.
But it seems like there are no shortcuts.
While I knew it was coming and it was only a matter of time, once I learned that it was done, I was wracked with regret, that I gave away any finality, and all because I'm just a weak person.
I fear that any relief that I would've gotten in that I no longer have to worry about her worsening condition will be negated by a growing feeling of regret.
It certainly isn't within my projected expectations.
There's a feeling of anger and anxiety, futility... and while I figured that it was coming, I figured it would be within guidelines. But it greatly exceeds it. And the exceeding occurred all at once, which is the marvel of it. I thought I was beyond such rapid fluctuation of emotions like that. It seems naive of me.
The worst part is that I worked all day myself, so I had no chance for catharsis. I was forced to keep up a workstyle persona the whole time, mincing my own thoughts. I don't feel like other times, where I can't even be distracted from how shitty I feel. And so in yet another way I am left in an awkward feeling of helplessness and loss. ...How emo sounding.
Ugh, I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess it's all part of the futility.