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Well, it’s official: life can’t be any shittier. But then again, I’ve thought that before, and things kept getting worse, so I guess I should stop thinking that, because it can always get worse. Precious is dead. I took her to the vet Wednesday morning because she had had diarrhea since 1:00 a.m. Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. The vet said she had some kind of intestinal bug/infection, gave me three different medications to give her, and gave her sub-q fluids to make sure she stayed hydrated. I brought her home and fed her, and she ate really well. As far as I can remember, at about 3:00, she started acting tipsy, but I thought it was because I had just given her a bath and she was upset and trying to dry herself off, so it was a little unnatural due to her brain damage. I put her back in her cage and she fell asleep. I checked on her periodically, and she stayed sleeping. At about 6:00 or 6:30, I checked on her again and knew something wasn’t right. She was sprawled out on the floor, trying to stand, but she couldn’t. She was just kind of pushing her self around on the floor. We figured her sugar must have dropped, so we tried to put some Nurtri-Cal in her mouth, but she wouldn’t really swallow it. A little later we tried to syringe feed her some food, and she ate some of it, but not a whole lot I guess. She did sit up though shortly after that, so we thought maybe she would get better. My mother and I then went to bed because it was late. In the morning she was back to lying on her side again, and really didn’t look good. Some of the food in her cage was gone though, so she had gotten up sometime in the middle of the night and ate. We took her into the vet as soon as it opened, and the vet told us her sugar was only 11. She said they could start treating her again, but she might not make it. She started to crash as the vet was speaking with us, so we had to have her put down. Do you know how horrible that ******** is?! Yeah, she was suffering, but no matter how you look at it, it’s still murder. I don’t think there was any right answer in that situation though. Do you let her die on her own terms and suffer, or do you be merciful and kill her to ease the suffering? Either way you’re ********. Part of me did want to start treating her again, but I know that in a way that wasn’t feasible. She got brain damage the last time from her sugar dropping, and this time it was even lower, so what would be the additional damage? Her quality of life was already diminished, and I’m sure it would have been worse. We had already spent close to $2,000 on her. We can’t even afford that, let alone anything additional close to that. There was also the chance that she was positive for feline leukemia, so all of our efforts to save her might be in vain down the road anyways. The vet thought she might have been septic (bacteria in the blood stream), which would explain her hypoglycemia, her watery blood, and why, despite our best efforts, she wouldn’t get better. It’s still a bunch of s**t, just a big steaming pile of s**t. I just don’t get why she wasn’t meant to live, why we couldn’t have nursed her back to health. We tried so hard. I feel to blame though because I didn’t give her Nutri-Cal on her food when I fed her. Maybe if I would have done that, or gave her some when she first started to get tipsy, I could have prevented her blood sugar from dropping. I really don’t deserve to live. I very well could have killed this kitten. I wish a semi-truck would come crashing through my house right into me as I’m writing this. I’m a stupid and horrible person for letting this happen again. Though I didn’t think her blood sugar would be a problem though because I didn’t think she’d get dehydrated again. Sure, she still had diarrhea, but I thought the medicine would start kicking in, and she was eating well and had sub-q fluids. She had more going for her this time than last time. But then again, maybe if that would have never happened last time, she wouldn’t have been so vulnerable this time. No matter how you look at it, it’s my fault. Throughout this whole thing though, I can’t help but wonder if there’s really a God, because he seemed to be totally absent this whole time. I don’t see how he could have let her get brain damaged in the first place. I prayed so hard for her, why couldn’t he have interceded and gave her some divine help? Then he was still trying to claim her by not helping her get better and letting this happen again. Finally, he wasn’t even merciful. If she was going to die anyways, he should have taken her life quickly. But no, she lived all the way through the night, I’m sure suffering the whole time. I know it might seem like I’m relying too much on some deity for help, but if we ever needed a miracle, it was then, and I feel totally forsaken. I just don’t see how if there’s a God in heaven, how he could let her suffer like this. At the same time, I still hope and pray there is a God because once again, the thought of Precious just ceasing to exist makes me sick to my stomach. To think that she’s just totally gone, that she won’t go to some kind of heaven and finally be happy and healthy, and I might never get the chance to see her again is too much for me to handle. I really need to hold on to the hope that she’s in a much better place. Maybe the worse part of this is that just last Saturday she had started loving attention and purring. When a cat purrs when you pet it, you make a personal connection with it. You know that it enjoys you, just as much as you enjoy petting it. Up until last Saturday she never purred, even before she had brain damage. The fact that she was purring now showed she was making improvements, and let me make a more personal connection to her, only deepening my bond and commitment to her. So in that aspect, her death is even worse. I sat with her all evening and night Tuesday (up until I went to bed), just petting her to let her know someone was there and she wasn’t alone. Her one paw was moving sometimes, so I think she might have been knitting bread. Even in the state she was in, she still enjoyed being pet, and could find the energy to knit bread. Can you get any more tragic than that? These are just more images to add to the chest of horrors in my mind that I’ll see forever. I’ve known despair many times before, but I’ve never had so much in my heart at once. This whole summer has sucked in truly epic proportions, and I can’t get over one thing before something else happens. I feel totally dead inside. The pain I feel now is more of constant dull pain rather than sharp. I just feel so numb, I don’t know if I’m even capable of feeling strong emotions anymore. I certainly don’t think I’ll ever feel true happiness again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not naïve enough to think I’ll never have a happy moment again, I just don’t think I’ll ever feel all-consuming happiness because there will always be these dark clouds and shadows to cover it up. I would like to end by saying I really hope things can’t get any worse, but if I’ve learned anything this summer, it’s that they always can.
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