Well this has been one of those weeks that make you want to ask god if he is really just fucking with you, crawl back into bed and wait out the rest of the week in a semi-comatose state of movies and chocolate cake. This is something I would do, if I weren't broke of course. I have been more manic this week than in recent memory thanks to work however and I think that has helped me through. One minute I am home, dissolved in tears and wanting to scream and the next I am at work making jokes and trying to not make the serious awkwardness and karmic black hole that is my life get anyone else down. In between all this flip flopping is me begging my body to stop randomly deciding it is going to completely empty my body of whatever I had ingested that day.
Last week Claudius stopped eating or drinking. We added his favorites and nothing, gave him a little pill that is supposed to help appetite and nothing. Normally the pill is kind of a jump start and gets him going again but he wasn't having any of that. I give him a bit of baby food by way of syringe because sometimes dehydration or lack of eating can actually make them not want food or water. Into the vet we went. The morning we went in his attitude was totally different from the night before and I knew something serious was up. Claudius had become severely anemic, mostly due to fleas. We had a flea problem in the house, being in Texas with the insane weather and living alongside a creek makes fleas a constant battle, but I hadn't noticed a major upswing and were just waiting on the new shipment of Revolution to come for the cats to treat them. What I wasn't aware of was because of Claudius's old age and copious fur they had basically gone for him exclusively and I couldn't tell because his fur was so thick and he wasn't a big scratcher. For three days the vets and I fought with all we could on the medical front, as well as the napalm the crap out of the fleas front and Claudius fought with all his little heart and spirit but in the end his poor little body could not take anymore. My best friend, the cat of my heart, passed away on Sunday May 2nd around 1:30 pm. My heart feels very broken. I am angry that I don't get to see him and I am shocked at just how very much my life changed without him in it. Just the simple act of walking down the hallway, passing his room and not opening the door for him in the morning sends another icy jolt through my heart. I have to admit I am happy that he is no longer in pain, and I know that now he can see, and has both ears, and front claws and that makes me happy, but I will never quite be ok without him here with me. His ashes are now resting on one of the shelves he so loved to hop on to peer eerily at you.
I found out yesterday that my cousin Kyle passed away as well. Right now I am too angry about the situation to write about it, I guess it will have to be saved for tomorrow. For now I can say, he was a dick, but not really once you got to know him. He was a year and a half older than me and like a big brother. Also I am furious that he fell into the same trap many in my family have fallen into and that he let himself be taken away from us so early.
Maybe tomorrow will be a day without tears, but not today.