Not the post I was hoping to write.

I’ve been bad about blogging, and part of it is because I have all these things I want to blog about and want to blog well, but I have been  absolutely short on time. Even the people I usually email regularly are starting to wonder where I’ve been. This is because I had two weddings, several writing projects in several different phases, and much to do before I head out on my trip with Marie Sexton next week. I had plans to maybe tonight do a catch-all post before the big pre-trip post i’d planned this weekend.

Instead I get to blog about another sick cat, probably cancer again. (Blair, for those of you who know our cats.)

I’m blogging it because I have the urge to fill twitter and facebook and everyone’s emails with emotional, ranty nonsense about it. I want to say all the cliches, that it isn’t fair, that I hate this, that cancer sucks. But even in my mouth, it doesn’t do any good.

It breaks my heart to look at him. He’s so thin, and I think of how much pain he must be in, and how miserable he must feel, and it just makes me hurt the more. The irony is that so many times Blair has caused so much hell we have had to discuss (and always discard) euthinizing him just because he is the fucking bitchiest cat who ever lived. But he’s also one of the most loving.

I don’t know. I think pet loss is different than people, and I always have. With people loss is about the potential realized and denied, about the gifts that person brought the world. With a pet it seems to be something so different. Some of it is projection of myself, I think. A projection of love, a promise to care for and feed in return for almost nothing. With Blair it’s meant putting up with an attitude most people wouldn’t as well. But he’s still my baby.

Two at once is hard. Two from the same "cat era" is hard: Mia is 16, Blair is 11. Two cats not dead, just dying slowly, is hard. Death will live here every day until I make the call to hand my babies over. In both their cases, it will be me who says, "Today, beloved, you die, because it’s not okay for you to go on this way." Maybe that’s what upsets me, though in a way it’s a relief of control.

The cost of loving is loss. it’s a price worth paying, but today it’s feeling like a very, very bitter pill.

And it truly sucks to pay $300 to find out your cat is dying, with another $120+ coming to get full confirmation. That’s a slap on a cold face in January.

Cancer: fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

24 Comments on “Not the post I was hoping to write.

  1. I’m still reeling from the loss of my Snuffy and burying a childhood friend suffering with cancer.
    And, you, my dear. This. And your own pain and struggles as well.
    I’m so sorry, Heidi.
    Yes, FUCK you, cancer. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

  2. I’m still reeling from the loss of my Snuffy and burying a childhood friend suffering with cancer.
    And, you, my dear. This. And your own pain and struggles as well.
    I’m so sorry, Heidi.
    Yes, FUCK you, cancer. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

  3. I am so sorry to hear about this. You know I love animals, too, and I hate to think about losing one of my own. You have my deepest sympathy.

  4. I am so sorry to hear about this. You know I love animals, too, and I hate to think about losing one of my own. You have my deepest sympathy.

  5. I hear you. I’ve had to make that decision before, and let me tell you, it is heart-rending to have to make that choice. Our pets are one of the sweetest things in our lives–they love us unconditionally, which is more than most of us can say about the human relationships we have! So sorry to hear this bad news. Hugs to you and your babies…

  6. I hear you. I’ve had to make that decision before, and let me tell you, it is heart-rending to have to make that choice. Our pets are one of the sweetest things in our lives–they love us unconditionally, which is more than most of us can say about the human relationships we have! So sorry to hear this bad news. Hugs to you and your babies…

  7. Blair
    I’m so sorry to hear this. It’s a hard, hard thing to go thru and anyone that hasn’t doesn’t understand. My thoughts are with you!

  8. Blair
    I’m so sorry to hear this. It’s a hard, hard thing to go thru and anyone that hasn’t doesn’t understand. My thoughts are with you!

  9. I am so sorry to hear about Blair, too, Heidi. I’m glad I got to know him and I’m also sad for you. I know what it’s like to have a slightly temperamental cat that other people most likely would have gotten ridden of but whom you love anyway!

  10. I am so sorry to hear about Blair, too, Heidi. I’m glad I got to know him and I’m also sad for you. I know what it’s like to have a slightly temperamental cat that other people most likely would have gotten ridden of but whom you love anyway!

  11. The pain of pet loss
    I am truly sorry for the painful place you and your kitty Blair find yourselves in. Preemptive grieving is a bitch, so much so that it almost makes the real kind after the pet passes seem a little better. At least at that point it’s purposeful; you’re on your way to healing. Right now, you’re just treading water in a vat of suckiness, dread and fear.
    I am an animal chaplain who works with people to help them prepare for, cope with and move on after pet loss. I became one after writing my book, “Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss,” after losing a truckload of both people and pets in just a few years’ time. In it, I share stories of afterlife connections I still have with those who have died, as well as stories from people the world over who feel just as you and I do about our animals.
    Oddly enough, it may very well be Blair’s terrible attitude that actually strengthened your bond. We become really protective of those critter friends whose behaviors render them “unlovable” by the masses. We feel we must make up for any lost potential adoration they might have had if they didn’t, say, pee in the basement floor drain. It’s easy to love a perfect pet. It takes full heart commitment to love one who makes that a challenge.
    You have my deepest sympathies.

  12. The pain of pet loss
    I am truly sorry for the painful place you and your kitty Blair find yourselves in. Preemptive grieving is a bitch, so much so that it almost makes the real kind after the pet passes seem a little better. At least at that point it’s purposeful; you’re on your way to healing. Right now, you’re just treading water in a vat of suckiness, dread and fear.
    I am an animal chaplain who works with people to help them prepare for, cope with and move on after pet loss. I became one after writing my book, “Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss,” after losing a truckload of both people and pets in just a few years’ time. In it, I share stories of afterlife connections I still have with those who have died, as well as stories from people the world over who feel just as you and I do about our animals.
    Oddly enough, it may very well be Blair’s terrible attitude that actually strengthened your bond. We become really protective of those critter friends whose behaviors render them “unlovable” by the masses. We feel we must make up for any lost potential adoration they might have had if they didn’t, say, pee in the basement floor drain. It’s easy to love a perfect pet. It takes full heart commitment to love one who makes that a challenge.
    You have my deepest sympathies.

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