|I don't normally eat whole blocks of chocolate. |
I am just not that sort of person.
Tuesday, 4th June 2013
There is a book out there called "Love, Loss and What I Wore" by Ilene Beckerman. It was also turned into a play by Nora Ephron and her sister Delia Ephron.
I haven't read the book, or seen the play.
But now I'm thinking about it because I recently read Stacy London's book, "The Truth About Style," where she referenced it. "The Truth About Style" is a recommended read - it's not nearly as fatuous as it sounds. I'd even argue that it's not even really much about clothes at all.
It's memoir disguised as fashion flim-flammery.
Just like how this post isn't about... oh heck, I don't know even know what it is about.
Love - I love my cantankerous ginger cat. He's a temperamental one, but I love him anyway.
We've been together for a long time. Longer than any lovers. Longer than most friends.
Loss - The vet today has informed me that he has cancer. The very advanced, aggressive kind. It has spread to his lungs. By the end of this week, he will be euthanased.
What I Ate - For breakfast: Two tablespoons of EasiYo natural yoghurt in a rice bowl.
For lunch: Another two tablespoons of yoghurt, this time with a few cherries I had leftover from making cake, also with a drizzle of honey because I need the energy to get through this horrible day.
For grief: Nearly all of a 100 gram block of Lindt (dark chocolate, orange).
What The Cat Ate - His name is Manic. He got that name from his first owner, who was a bit of a jerk. I am his third owner, but I've known and lived with him since he was a young cat. I missed out on his kittenhood, but we've lived in four houses together since 2001.
He's always just... been there. Been here, with me somehow.
Manic has been eating 'Hill's Prescription Diet, a/d Critical Care'. I don't know what the 'a/d' stands for. I know that the stuff in the can is a meat purée composed mainly of liver and boosted with vitamins, mushed so that it is easy for ailing, fragile animals to eat.
The Boyfriend and I have been hand-feeding it to him, as he just can't do solids. Be assured, there is almost nothing more wretched and heart-crushing than singing the Soft Kitty song to your sick cat while hand-feeding him because he's too weak to eat by himself.
Wednesday, 5th June 2013: Postscript
Last night, Manic slept at the end of our bed. By the morning, he had inched his way up, settling himself nearer to us. It would be the last time.
His breathing had become laboured and heavy, his chest rising and falling in great heaves. He wasn't able to make it to the litter box.
I called the vet - fortunately, they do home visits.
When the vet came and administered the sedative, Manic looked up at me, rested his chin on my hand and started to purr. His eyes then shut softly, asleep.
He was then given the euthanasia solution intravenously. In a moment, he was gone.
Manic the Cat died peacefully at home, at around 12:45 pm. He was settled and comfortable on his favourite blanket, facing the sun.