Fourth of July

Admittedly, listening to Sufjan Stevens is not the most uplifting sound tract for this particular entry. I woke up at 7am to a knock at the front door. No one uses the front door, and certainly not at 7am. My roommate came in, with a note scrawled in barely legible script with a name and phone number. Lani was hurt by a neighbors dog... the owner is taking lani to the emergency vet. I jump in the shower and the final haze of early morning ambien washes down the drain. My cat is hurt. Not my cat, my baby, the one who saw Sue though scary nights when I was gone on the road, the one who would lick Sue's face after a seizure, the little angel who would plop herself on Sue's lap whenever a seizure was imminent. After Sue's death she wandered in a haze. Finally with a new kitten in the house, she had something else to protect, and I was a mess, so I became her lap project. She cuddled with me at night, slept on my back the many days I refused to get out of bed. So, no, Lani is not just my cat. I don't remember the drive to the vet, save one phone call from the vet, if she fails, should we use extreme measures? Dear God, not this conversation again. I flash back to a panicked drive to Boston after the fire. Conversations with Sue's burn drs at Mass General... After talking about Lani's quality of life it was decided that no extreme measures should be used, even before I got there.

I arrived and the dog's owner is horrified. She apologizes ad nauseum. I want to give her the relief she is begging for, but all I can think about is my tortured little angel. I walk back into icu and see the saddest/scariest sight I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. She sees me, lifts her head, mews, and buries her head in my hand. I never noticed that my hand envelops her entire head before. She rests comfortably. I begin to sob, thinking that I could not keep her mom safe and now I have failed her too. The dr advises euthanasia, but wants one more set of x-rays to be sure.

The dog's owner and i make small talk for what seems like hours as I wait my angel's prognosis. The x-rays are ready and I am finally called back... my worst fears are confirmed. She is paralyzed and it will take thousands of dollars of surgery to correct the joint damage... which was not guaranteed nor recommended. The dr agreed that the most humane thing was to let her go. How could I say no? The only other creature who lived day to day with Sue and I is gone. And just like Sue she is gone because I did not protect her.

I stumbled into lifegroup tonight in a haze. I think I yelled at one point. I don't remember much. I walked out at some point.


I just know my lil girl would normally be curled up, snoring in the small of my back, but now it is cold and empty. I am holding Rusty a little closer tonight.