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the worst so far. yesterday is one of those days that should never have happened. while mars' presence in the sky has been beautiful, i believe it is at fault for bad shit. or at least partially. my friend mikey's dad is in a fucking coma from a car accident ('autounfall' auf deutsch). peter & i were startled awake at 6:30 yesterday morning to the horrifying news that our cat had been hit by a car. li'l kitty loafa bread was chased into the street by another cat, and his back end was totally fucked. one leg destroyed. the other limp. panting and looking freaked. i rode in the back of the car that hit him, trying to calm him down on the way to the emergency vet. we waited for hours, days, years, decades... xrays revealed a big fucking mess. an expensive one. what to do? force a by nature active can't-sit-still cat to be a tripod with a gimp hip who can't control his bowels? okay, so it's a little bit charming. but not a good idea. we had to make the other decision, the one that hurts the heart more than the credit rating, the one that made me want to die myself. who has the right? how did we get to the point where we can decide on life or death? if life will be horrible, prevent the pain, suffering, endless surgeries, the 'expressing' of the bowels. it makes sense but then is so heinous, so presumptuious, so freaking poopy. so it's done. that's that. one less cat to make me happy, to sit on my lap when i poop, to walk across the computer and to meow constantly at the door, to play monkey in the middle, to sleep in the bushes outside. oh fucking well. what's a girl to do? |
