Letting Go

There is a new kitten in this house. Like Nymph she was born in April. Unlike Nymph I found her on Ebay. Literally! Her name is not Kashi, she ignored me when I tried, as that name is very unique. I think however it is wise she didn’t choose Kashi. Between Soda and Cereal stealing words from things such as faeries and Sanskrit I would have the most accidental brand name theme. Sylvani tried to answer to Sprite, however she was convinced to try another name. Sylvani, like Sprites and Nymphs are also faeries.

She has adapted well to the household, arriving in a manner that had us both stressed out. Then with about twelve hours of home time she endured a party. It was a fantastic party actually, and I had more fun with hoardes of people in my house than I thought I would. My friends oohed and awed over Meat cake, each one was impressed with the delicious gluten free cake, and yet after it was over I found myself sad. It felt unaccountable so I sat and thought. This was naptime, so I also slept a bit. It was a dreamless sleep.

I realized watching Sylvani peak out at my guests, too shy and still overwhelmed to say hello, reminded me of Nymph when people came over. Nymph would have been this same age but hardly would she have been this size. It became clear to me with in hours of having Sylvani here that Nymph was sick the minute she came into my home. My fears that Sprite gave her the illness faded, though now that is a risk. You see Nymph was abnormally small, so small in fact that I was worried for her. Sylvani is on the small side for her age too, but is almost as big as Sprite. She is far lighter, Sprite is softer.

Nymph purred but her purr was strange. My little purr factories are very good at their jobs, producing purrs nearly twenty four hours a day. Her first hour here, Sylvani purred and napped with me. Nymph did too. Nymph seemed to purr backwards in a way, it is hard to explain but I am left to think that she had other things wrong with her. She was so tiny, so fragile. She was a cat made out of faery dust and love. Too fragile to last in reality.

Sylvani is solid. I have no fears for her future as plagued me constantly with Nymph before I even knew she was ill. I have some residual fears because of the loss of Ny but Sylvani does normal cat things. She knows how to play. Sprite has not had to teach her how. She knows how to jump, though she can’t quite make the food counter. She likes to headbutt my ankles and stretch up to touch me. Her beautiful eyes are bright and shiny and she is curious.

Nymph wasn’t all that curious. Sprite literally taught her to pounce and play. Sylvani is creating her own methods of play with the existing toys. Did you know a laserpointer needs no human? She has been flinging it and pouncing it. She found the truest method of dot defeat.

I talked with M about this for a while, and he said nothing much but did comfort me. There were no words of wisdom needed beyond, “You were afraid to love Sprite, you were afraid to Love Ny, but you don’t seem to hold any fears for Sylvani.” My fear for Sprite was that I would be homeless and could not feed her. This came to pass, though not at all in the expected manner. My fear for Nymph came to pass. It seems my subconscious does a very good job of creating reasonable fears.

I could not see Nymph as an adult cat. Sylvani being nearly identical to Sprite with the exception of the angular nature of her eyes may help but I can see them together in a fear years, Sylvani coming with me as a service animal. I could see Nymph as one but her passivity worried me too at times for a service animal is not always passive with their person, at least with my method of training. Service animals are a balance between proactive and passive.

I find myself no longer so worried that I had failed Nymph in some invisible way that only I was aware of. I find myself mourning her still but not as much. Sylvani is healthy. She is not so small that I worry about her dying because of the surgery to have her spayed or nuetered. She’s a girl so whichever applies. In fact she has managed to kick Sprite out of the sunny spot, without so much as a hiss.

Sylvani and Sprite are most likely related with in a generation. Either Sylvani is Sprite’s Niece or Sprite’s mother lived a long time while producing offspring. This is based on more than their looks. Sprite spent a time in the same Shelter that I found Sylvani on. Via Ebay yet still a shelter. Sprite was found in a similar fashion by said shelter. Both cats were adopted just after being put on the short list for euthanasia. They have similar dispositions so far, though Sprite has shown far more meanness in her life time. That cruelty to people was survival. She was the least likely to find a home, Sylvani’s issue with homes was age discrimination. Too old and too young at the same time.

So I am taking a breath, and I am letting go. I cannot hold on to Nymph out of regrets and sorrows that do not belong. She got what she came for here, and she gave me something I needed too. It was the same thing. Love. Nymph reminded me to love myself. It isn’t the inspirational cat with a disability story, for there was no point of her being ill and suffering that was inspiring. It was simply the soft way she walked through life. She didn’t let her pain stop her from being the gentle soul she was. Knowing how much she hurt all the time makes me sad but, I hear that is true about people when they realize I was literally born in pain. It makes them sad.

I have another post about my mother that will come out soon but for now I am going to watch the cats ruin the rest of the marshmallows. They started this during my nap last night, but apparently Marshmallows are delicious to both of them. Sprite has a history with them, but she prefers the minis. Sylvani adores the big ones. She has flung them, turned them into pillows, and her face when she first bit into one was priceless. I was there for the first taste. It took her a while to decide that the flavor was great! It’s time to turn on some lights and open the curtains and have a day. A day of cat play!

Little Flickers of the Candle

I mean for this to be a short post though often that is my intention and I have yet to muster one of those. I am listening to Sprite who is so soft and I am in that just woke up from my nap space still. I am making morbid associations that I can normally shunt away, I find it a bit fascinating. These are the little flickers of the mind’s candle. They are the sudden illuminations that can lead to a gasping breath as the ideas start to coalesce or clot together.

I am wondering if Sprite, who doesn’t actually like the traditional pet bed but who at the vet’s office when Nymph’s time came climbed in first, then settled down and waited with the little one actually understood that the bed was for Ny’s comfort? She has had them offered at various vets, and shunned them each time. She has her own of a sorts, it’s a lot more cloud like, a dark color, coated in catnip and she has yet to touch it. Though she was staring at it in her basket with this great look of melancholy. That or the cleaning of the basket and the addition of padding instead of a blanket is no longer “right” because it now holds no scent of the little paws and bright eyes she and I love.

There are now no hidden corners in which she can rest and inhale the warm scents, if now a bit musty, of Nymph. There are now no spaces or places in which to hide, really. Those were either changed, destroyed, or moved. This was necessary so that she can be healthy and whomever comes to live with us too. Yet I see the flickers of sorrow in her at this. Her pain is great. Not that mine isn’t but I feel hers is greater. She has never been this sad to be away from other cats.

Not Thor, whom she had wrapped around her tail and was her loyal male slave like creature. Not a lover, but instead the fetcher of toys and the kneeling footman awaiting instruction with the flick of her tail. She didn’t like his companion Mid-Knight much at all but was sorry he fell ill, Mid-Knight seemed to resent her more than she didn’t care too much about him. It was all her playfulness and rejuvinating his once quiet friend. This darned female had gotten Thor up to running up trees, despite being declawed. I always worried about Thor being allowed outside with his defenses gone, but he was not my cat. I could barely keep her in once we discovered her allergy there.

William Shakespurr, whose perfect owner is now dead as Craigslist displayed while I was companion hunting, he was not mourned for even an hour. The atmosphere was celebratory for both of us. His blundering forcefulness while endearing left us both with literal wounds and literal scars. My nearly dying at the hands of this cat was just too much to bear.

No, it was Nymph who wooed and won us. In fact I was unaware how much her presence had changed me. My doctor’s visit today helped showcase some of that. As she commented on the change and just how much cleaner things were, despite the layers of cat clothes which had been left to dry overnight on every available surface, I told her why there was so much cleaning. In fact the only real thing that needed a good scrub in general was my carpet but it looks so much nicer that it IS worth commenting on. Cat vomit stains are gone. I am doubly sold now on a carpet cleaner for myself. Yes, when I told her she was very sad. Then she looked a bit worried, and told me why she was worried

Nymph had been medicinally good for me. My blood pressure went back to normal, I had quite a long year of moderately high blood pressure. Normal for most people is high for me. I wasn’t as pale and pasty, though I am pasty again it isn’t the loss of Nymph but again, uterine dynamighting. She saw both Sprite and myself “blossom”. We became ourselves, as if the missing piece was found. That’s how it had felt with Nymphy too. That little sadness that is there is a ghost of the flickers of her candle. It’s her shadows, her scent. The ghost isn’t something Sprite or myself wanted gone either. Nymph smelled like chocolate to me. Sprite smells like sugar cookies (gluten free of course).

Thor smelled like grass. Mid-Knight’s scent was very gross, though that may have been the impending illness there waiting to be noticed. William Shakespurr smelled like pee, because he would roll in the litterbox after peeing. Very disgusting cat that one. Yet when I would lay with Sprite and Nymph on me I would smell them both and it was better than eating a chocolate chip cookie (dark chocolate chunks).

So as I wake up, via writing, I am left with the rest of the thoughts of her visit. She doesn’t think I am any more depressed than I was a few months ago. Grieving? Yes. Depressed? No. I am always a bit depressed but I didn’t lose any ability to the depression except that one hour a few months ago, before Nymph, when I had to choose to get out of bed because laying there was just being depressive and I didn’t let me. I’ve felt consistently good. Most of the time I am happy. I am death obsessed but, that’s par for the course given my life. My doctor says so. The amount of death I have dealt with outweighs most average US Citizen’s experiences. I think those studies (she could cite them, it was funny) are a bit focused on middle class white people but I could be wrong.

My exhaustion is definately a side effect of the gouts of blood. My blood tests show I actually have been cycling. My uterus is trying to WORK. My ovaries too. Damn them. She was relieved I refused birth control, and having had an anaphalactic response to Yazmin, I plan to continue to do so. That won’t stop this kind of bleeding as my blood is blood not a mix of fleshy bits that pass for blood to the unaware mind and eye. The color is wrong, there is no fade in or fade out as my body tries to get “things done”. I don’t have Cushings Disease, as was a concern for a long time. Yay, no need for Brain Surgery.

The thing is, she also is worried that my current doctor is ignoring the issue. She recommended I sue and move to … California! The fact that my best medical option is moving out of state irks me to a degree. She doesn’t think a hysterectomy is the right answer for me, sure it will fix the bleeding issue but it doesn’t tell us why I am bleeding, is invasive, potentially deadly especially in my case, and could screw me up if I don’t have an answer. It could be cancer but she still thinks, as I have said myself, that it isn’t likely. Not because I don’t have a higher risk or symptoms but because there are less deadly scary things that could be wrong. My hypothesis about Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome causing tears is the most likely. In that case, I have no clue what the treatment will be but I have guesses.

It was good to affirm what I already knew. I am fine, in fact I am hardly a flickering candle most of the time and feeling this weak is very annoying. I am not sure I am able to sue at this moment because of lawyers fees etc but I do like that she has some similar ideas on California’s climate. SHe specified LA, which is my aimed at city. I have a fantastic doctor.

I also started the process for a cat interview with Sprite, so maybe by Monday there will be another cat living here. The cat is a bit older than Ny, but then I thought Ny was too young. I am not going to age discriminate against cats at all. I just hope this set up works out. If not, then the cat’s previous owner/mother will regain property of said feline and that will be that. We’ll just try again. Sprite’s gotten down to sulking most hours because she is lonely and sad. I think another cat around to at least fight with a bit will do her wonders.

Paw Steps In the Stars (Trigger Warning)

Nymph left us today, and the experience is one that I didn’t know how I would feel. Every other loss in my life of such a companion as she was during a time when I had no control in my life even over my own food, I was a child as well not a woman and those caused so much pain as the experience was full of suffering, deceit, and often the death of the animal was a punishment against me. My dear friend Nymph’s last moment was perfect. There is no other word I can use. There is nothing I would chance, except her having been ill at all and as it was, she had a very good life.

The veterinary center that I go to is amazing, the set up protects the humans and the animals, it was a guided journey in absolute kindness. Furthermore I am aware that the staff became attatched to Nymph, her illness effected so many people, not just me. I didn’t have to be alone, M the Carer was with me. I gave her the option of waiting outside during the process but she did not do so.

They set us up in a quiet room, the lights were dimmed which was nice for both Ny and myself. Sprite doesn’t like the darkness but that’s alright. Sprite climbed into the bed they had set up for Nymph and laid down, which I think made it far easier for Nymph to do the same. Ny was curious and wanted to poke around the room. Sprite was not, for the first time in a new place. Instead she and Nymph held one another. It was beautiful. We were there settling in for a good half an hour, this gives the humans and the animals enough time to relax. There is enough time to change your mind if you want, and nothing happens until you, the pet friend are ready.

Sprite and Nymph both met a few nurses, and Sprite for once let people in public pet her without any balking, she just made sure that Nymph was okay with everything. We played music, I set up a play list on my MP3 player and brought speakers. The playlist is the songs that I like, Sprite likes, and the ones that Nymph responded to most favorably. I felt a bit unsure about playing her favorite song at first, during the process but it was fine with everyone. Though Rob Zombie isn’t excactly what was expected I am sure.

I went with her favorite song because for some reason the Devil’s Rejects makes her dance, run, AND play. She had been fighting the Nurse a bit, she didn’t want them to touch her. So I hit play and she put her head on Sprite. I put my hand on her after they gave her the medication, and the first thing that happened was her pain went away. She was awake and alive at that point and I felt her being her again.

Pain changes how your body feels, from the texture of your fur on to the way you hold yourself. Nymph hadn’t felt like her at all for days. This is how I judged her pain, besides asking her. She felt soft, warm, and she purred. Then she was gone. I felt her go but I also felt Sprite’s awareness as I was touching her too. She was sad immediately, and pressed up into me, pleading for a bit. After the doctor and nurse confirmed that everything had gone as it should they laid Nymph back with Sprite and I cried. M the Carer hugged me, which was what I needed at the time. That need surprised me but she was good about my redirecting where she touched me, because I knew she didn’t want to hurt me and she confirmed that.

We sat with Nymph for almost an hour after, I was okay to leave before Sprite, but Sprite literally would not let go. So I let her process and be sad. I knew she was ready once she was out of the bed, even though as soon as I reached for her she jumped back in. We played most of the playlist I set up, and Sprite for a time had her head on the speaker. She is even now very sad. She was alarmed we didn’t bring the body with us, but she does know Nymph isn’t going anywhere else.

My vet’s office will be mailing me a cast of Ny’s paw. I have one of Sprite’s and I will reframe them together. Likely I can use the same frame, since neither cat is giant. I came home, I talked with a few people about some unsavory things but that is life, they were careful with me too and made sure to ask if I was up for the conversation. As it is about Murder, I had to be. If I put that off it would hurt me more.

Then I talked with friends. I realized I was fighting my natural resting patterns and let myself go lay down. It started to rain immediately, which explained to me why I hurt so much bodily. Mentally I feel the same peace that hit me when Nymph felt like Nymph. There was no wrong in this decision, just right. I had the right facility, the right doctors, and the right day and time. Any longer and Nymph would’ve been tortured. Any shorter and she would’ve not been in enough pain and it would have cost her days that she could enjoy. I never expected peace.

I expected guilt, anger, sorrow, doubt, but peace was there.

It was in my rest that the glass shattered in that empty house and the ice cracked further. In that house are my regrets, losses and it is a house on a foundation of pain. The entire house collapsed as I let myself remember every moment I had with Nymph. Her first steps in my house as Sprite greeted her with a big lick and her last morning here with me. Her delight when she realized Catnip is VERY good, and her frustration that Sprite wouldn’t let her pee at the same time. I don’t think we had any bad moments, though our worst was indeed the moment she became sick and I knew I had to take her in. Yet even in this there are so many good memories.

This morning I woke up, and before I could even shift I realized I had a chest full of cat. This left me with a bit of a pain in my back but that’s fine for Nymph.Sprite rarely stays on my chest but after my walk yesterday predominantly stayed with Nymph. She even let her pee at the same time. She dislikes sharing her litterbox, yet it was what Nymph needed. Yesterday was horrible for her, Nymph hurt so much that all she could do was lay with Sprite. Today she was too weak to do much, though she made a valiant effort at hiding from us when she heard me say, “Okay lets get the cats ready to go to the vet.” She went under the bed, not as far as before as we blocked that off but enough that I couldn’t get her, then she went to try and get under the shelf. That was hard to see as her belly was so full of fluid that she couldn’t fit where she should’ve.

Even then she purred for me. She was only wanting to avoid the other people with their poking and their prodding. That was at a minimum too, and that she purred in her last breath is something I am grateful for.

During our settling in time, as I watched Nymph I told her what I think Kitty Heaven is. It is a place where I would love to be myself frankly, not the death part but who doesn’t want rivers of fresh milk full of fat fish that jump into your paws, plump mice that run through rows of catnip, growing everywhere, and where cats are made out of stars?

The storm has concluded it’s fury as I write this, and this is the second time that a storm has mirrored my grief. I will still be sad when I wake up and she isn’t there. I will be sad when she doesn’t poke my feet trying to figure out how I can be so big. I will be sad when I think of the things she loved to do. I will not be sad when I think of the pain she did not feel. I will be happy as I think of her as a cat made of stars, she sparkled even in life and I would expect that she could be no other way in death.

Days

This should be short because I am out of spoons and I am into tomorrow’s spoon count. I try to avoid getting to this point ever but I don’t mourn well. Does anyone? Nymph is going to die any time now. She has days to live, the vet was upfront and supportive and… I am not sure how to handle this really. It feels like one too many things. We’ve barricaded the underside of the bed to prevent her from going under there, and though she won’t like this, she has other places she tucks herself away. Furthermore if the palliative care we chose doesn’t work anymore I have to make the choice about euthanasia. However we’re treating her pain right now, so hopefully that’s enough.

She has a fever again, and oh the hope I had just started to have. I just let myself hope. I am not very good with hope, in general my mind tells me this is the worst idea in the world. Hope. The concept always ends up leaving me with an aching heart, with wounds that seem to echo into my soul. It gets worse financially, and I already am owing people for their kindness, including the vets and the strangers.

I also have to say I have never seen a group of veterinarians so hopeful for an animal’s survival. Ny is a unique cat and everyone she has ever met adores her. They will mourn too, and that surprises me. Right now one of the nurses is calling local research facilities for feline illnesses to see if when Nymph passes they want to use her remains for research. Once she has passed I have to replace everything the cats use, and wash the house in bleach. Sprite most likely does carry the virus but doesn’t have any symptoms and FIP tends to strike younger cats or the extremely elderly, so if she was going to get it she would by now. That helps a bit too but Sprite is sitting beside me, and I can see the sorrow in her posture. She doesn’t want her friend to die either.

So, more days of silence. I feel as if something inside of me has cracked, my heart broke long ago, it feels different than a heart breaking. I just feel cracked.

All The Things (Poem)

All the little things you have yet to do
I see them laid out before you
Just one step forward and then there’s hope
Just one step forward and then there’s more

I see the shining future
I see your greatness now
I see what worlds you can change
I see what worlds you have

I see the friends you have made
I see the friends still waiting
I see the love that you do offer
and I accept it willingly

So don’t mind my tears
They are for the future
They are for me
For no matter where you go
No matter what you do
You are always going to be shining and sweet

All the things you have yet to do will wait
For the things you do now matter
The love you share
The minds you open
The laughter you cause
The warm unbroken

All the things I want for you
They are here in your heart
I love you
So no matter what
You are in my heart.

Cat Has Fever

Nymph’s prognosis is grim. I put this off for a few days while I couldn’t sleep. I just kept focusing on her needs and mine, so I managed to get some sleep down and she’s stable I think. Her fever hasn’t dropped but it’s not getting higher and she’s a bit more able. However after spending every penny I had and borrowing more at the Vet’s office, it was all to know that unless we have a ten percent miracle, my friend is going to die. I can’t keep her from behind dehydrated or in pain, and that makes me cry. I am trying to spend most of my time holding her but she is so hot she literally burns me. My hands are red and sore from her heat, 105 sometimes higher. This is when being temperature sensitive is really a curse. It’s not the shower, hot days that I miss. It’s not being able to hold her for as long as she need.

Thursday we go back, unless she gets sicker, and the vet will see if the mass in her lymph node was just an infection. However the vetrinary hospital, which I will be writing about soon because they have been more than just doctors but a support system for me, they did everything they could to make sure this wasn’t something we could really treat. The minor chance that this isn’t FIP, which I will let you google because I just can’t do the link thing right now, that chance is one we are taking. If she doesn’t get better on Thursday and there is really no hope, Nymph will not be coming home with me at least alive. I am trying to figure out what I can do for Sprite now, and I know the answer for myself is time.

Sprite keeps staring at me when I cry with shock. She has a fever now too, though hers is minor and may just be allergies I feel rather broken. I would give the world to make it where neither of them had illness ever, no pain. Just as I would for my sister or my brother or my friends. I have decided to ask the vet if they can use Ny’s body for science, if she passes. It’s a pretty slim chance so I am mentally preparing but I can’t stop hoping. Hope is the worst feeling I have ever experienced. It feels so good until I look at the facts. I would rather not hope and be wrong. I would give everything that we are just wrong and the anitbiotics cure her infection.

I am honored by a few people, which I will post about again with the hospital but one of the vets, the Ultrasound specialist, she was willing to not charge me full price so we could make sure that Ny hadn’t eaten something that wasn’t safe for her and it wasn’t just a perforated intestine. Which would be more expensive, but she wouldn’t be sentenced to a painful death, the only real risk there is either no treatment and I had found places that might help or anesthesia. Then there is the person who never met me, but they donated medications for Nymph. These medications are easing her pain, and have returned some of the brightness to her eyes though she is still just laying there. Then, there is every doctor at this hospital that took a look at her for free, only one is getting paid for that. There are the techs. Each of them made sure she was comfortable, though they did comment that she is such an obedient girl. If she lives, I know she has completed her sit training. She didn’t even fight during the ultrasound, or when they had to shave her stomach. The sicker an animal is the more it fights, especially things that hurt. That’s nature. Nymph showed them her brilliance and strangers responded to try and help us.

Still the persons I owe the most too over this, they are M. Of course you knew M was involved, he dropped everything to help. Then there’s my sister of choice who was willing to cost her family money and then some to come out if I need her. I just have to ask. I know that I am blessed, I don’t use that word often but even through the pain ahead, because I am still not doing well at all, there is no reason I cannot be honored and loved. It feels so odd to me to find love in this situation. When Sprite was electrocuted we found hate, anger that I was poor and dared to have an animal in my life, and so much pain. There was no solace, there was no comfort, and there was no love.

Nymph also turns out to be photogenic inside and out. Her ultrasounds are the type you want in your textbooks. I gave permission for them to be donated, if this does indeed turn out to be FIP for the simple reason that this would be the more rare type. The one that is harder to diagnose. The one that lets her live longer. I am going to go hold her now, and after we know I have more decisions to make. Someone even offered to buy her a burial plot, though I don’t know what to think about that. I am confused by the entire mourning industry for pets where people wear their animal’s ashes or get diamonds made with their DNA sequence entwined with the stones. It’s confusing and overwhelming but I can see in some ways the comfort that can be offered.

I know too when I get my ultrasound in a few weeks I’ll be thinking of this. I just hope my pictures are as easily read as hers. Nymph has lived up to her name, bringing sweetness as all good faeries should. Sprite does too, Sprite is far more mischevious than I ever let on but right now she’s mostly staying with Nymph. She’s protecting her from the things that would upset her and I have never seen her love another cat this much. I told the staff at the Hospital about their meeting, how there was no hissing or growling and the one time there has been it was Nymph not sharing food, and they said that just proves how rare a cat she is. If she survives she will be a service animal, because she has also been comforting me in the little ways. She is still mimicking Sprite. I know Sprite is fine because she is still playing. It hurts to watch her try and get Nymph to interact more than with the foodbowl or waterbowl. Ny watches but won’t jump up.

The final thing is, I have lost animals before. I have lost people before. I am confused because I never cried this much over a person or any animal,. I don’t cry. I did over Colors. I did over Snowball. Then Cookies but no human has brought me to tears except my Grandpa Murray. I have been called a monster for this but if I can love so much that it makes my heart explode before anything is wrong that I know of then why is that? I know Nymph was either born with this disease or at least had it when she came here, I know it isn’t my fault. I am not self blaming as is my tendancy but I feel like something inside me is being pushed too far and I can’t figure out what will happen if it breaks. I think it’s my heart, but I thought that was already broken. It isn’t loving that hurts though, it is not being able to protect her.

A Tail and Two Kitties

Nymph is at the time of this writing officially dying. My small and playful little friend may not make it until her appointment in the morning, which is a follow up to the emergency run today. My computer hopes are fully dead, because what is more important to me is life not tech. So my change jar is sitting emptied and I am not sure how to pay for what Nyny needs. I still don’t know all of what she needs.

What is killing her is either a perforation in her intestine, a growth/tumor, or a blockage though the latter is the least likely senario. Tomorrow she is going to have x-rays taken and the blood work and other sampling done today will be in. Tomorrow I will know if there is hope for her. Tonight she is getting medications that could kill me if I don’t wash up enough after taking them and that her bodily secretions will now enflame me over. I love her enough to hurt and itch. I love her. That’s enough to try. This is the best option and I will not let her die just because I was afraid of a little (okay very big) reaction. I am taking precautions but tonight I am wishing I had a god to pray to. M the carer said she will pray, I didn’t argue this. This week has been a bad week in general.

All of my fears for her, some of which seemed unreasonable last month when I was lamenting that she was so small and what ifs… they are all suddenly deadly accurate, terrifyingly so. This happens often, my fears are all logical possibilities but this one is an extreme possibility so why is this happening to her? If there is anything we can do, she will need surgery. There are no ifs ands or buts. I am not sure how to manage that, however, I am going to find a way. I may ask for help. I may? I probably will.

Her fever went up to 105, I was holding her and I felt the heat flairing up. Sprite is responding with sorrow. She’s so smart and when we left with the kitten she was in the window. When we returned she was in her “I has depresshuns” pose, just waiting for a photo and a lolcat caption. She didn’t like what I told her and Nymph likes the baths that are keeping her fever down even more.

The vet sent her home to cut my costs and because there is nothing that they can do for her until tomorrow. So, I am afraid. I am sorrowing. I am lamenting that there aren’t many options for animals unless you have money. This vet is the least expensive in town, I had already been shopping around. I know when I can afford to I am taking Sprite in. Even if Ny dies, I know that these people will do all they can to save her. Nymph said her first human words today, M the Carer was surprised, and I wish they hadn’t been words of fear. “No stop.” Having talking cats just seems to be my thing.

Nymph if she lives and is healthy enough, she will become a service animal. She has the right attributes, and she handled herself so well despite not feeling good. I am impressed with her grace under pressure. She doesn’t want to move or do however, and that is a big concern. When she didn’t want to play, she did yesterday but not today I knew we had to get her in. When I felt the heat in her body, I was scared. I was told by the vet if she had not come in today she would have died for certain. She had a seizure from her fever and is currently hiding and sleeping. I don’t blame her, she now associates the pink carrier of doom with anal probing thermometers and feeling crappy.

So I sit and I think on her tail, her ears, and her fun. She is fun. Nymph has helped me and I helped her. Her other potential home, if I didn’t want her was going to be with an old lady with 17 cats. A hoarder. Ny thrives here, thrived? The sick means past tense but I want her to thrive again. I am trying to stay positive but there’s always another element to anything. Enroute to the vets I had PTSD triggers, the location of my vet is in a bermuda triangle of some unknown event. Still, I think if I close my eyes until we get there and on the way home, then we will all be at least moderately okay and functional. Penicillin is not fun. Oh but the office is more accessible than the more expensive vet.

  • Polls

  • Ye Olde Archives of Fury

  • Top Rated

  • Top Clicks

    • None