I am not right in the head today.
I wasn’t planning on writing about this until later, but I need to get some stuff out so you get a bunch of words to wade through.
I’d also like to apologize in advance if I seem at all .. off today. I am feeling seriously weird – almost stoned – and my thoughts are scattered and sardonic (more so than usual).
Death makes me bitter and cynical, apparently. I was like this after my dad died – in between moments of crushing grief, I was mocking and acerbic; firing off highly inappropriate (yet witty!) observations that shocked people. We all deal with it differently. My method is kind of brittle.
We have an appointment to put Sasha down today. I’m at work for a conference call – a commendable display of dedication in the face of two chickens a year – then I’m going home to spend one last afternoon with her. I will stop at the store and buy a can of tuna, and we will share lunch. She loves tuna.
I don’t want to do this.
I have to do this.
She peed on the floor on Monday night and it was bright pink. Her kidneys are gone. She can hardly walk. She sleeps with her head in her water dish.
I can’t do this.
My insides are throwing up and spilling out my eyes.
I love you so much, Sasha. Fuck you for getting old and sick – you couldn’t wait another 60 years or so? Selfish cat.
She purrs and wants to be petted and yells at me when she’s hungry. She’s fine. We don’t have to do this.
Why can’t she tell me yes or no? I want to do the right thing but I don’t know what that is.
I hate this so much.
Last night I wished she would die in her sleep just so I wouldn’t have to be the one to kill her. I don’t deserve her – I am a terrible person.
I just wish I *knew*. What does she want? Does she think it’s time to go? Or does she have no idea what’s in store?
This is tearing me up. I can’t do this.