Don’t need those with all this rain.
With that I reached out and took hold of the door knob. The metal felt cold to the touch.
Then the phone rang.
I knew who it was.
I knew what she would say.
Part of me didn’t want to answer it. Maybe I was thinking if I didn’t hear the words it wouldn’t be a fact. That if I ignored the call it would all go away on it’s own.
But I also knew she would call The Queen and then she would have to tell me.
I didn’t want that.
I picked it up.
Yes. It was the vet.
Yes. It was advanced kidney failure.
No. There was nothing to do.
”Just don’t wait to long and let him suffer. It’s not a nice way to go.” she said when I asked how long and if I should bring him in.
I gave him a big squeeze and then had to go to dialysis.
I laid there the whole time wanting to be home. Hugging my Little Fat Boy.
I finally arrived home, to listen to Mr. Gow yell about how it shouldn’t be happening and how did it happen, etc.
Asking me to answer or look up answers that aren’t there.
LFB is 11. It happens. It happened.
Stop yelling and just love and snuggle him.
Mr. Gow does not handle stress at all well.
I pet my boy’s head most of the night. Right until we both fell asleep.
Then it was morning.
I had to make an appointment.
They gave me Friday at 2:30.
Then my LFB woke up.
He was so wobbly he almost fell over. He wandered around and cried.
Not meowing. Not howling.
He couldn’t eat or drink. He was not feeling well.
He was frustrated and scared.
I couldn’t make him do this for two and half more days.
I called back.
I called BarbieGirl.
The Queen, BarbieGirl and I took him that afternoon.
The Queen and I went in and sat with him the whole time.
I pet his head told him he was a great cat. That I loved him.
I no longer have a Little Fat Boy-Dell Baby-Puddin Pop.
I have two more kitties, even though I love them to bits, it’s not the same.
My mama’s boy. He was always mine. Just mine.