It's time ... almost.

As I write this, my sweet orange kitty Eric is dying. He'll be gone sometime between now, and four days from now - either because he's slipped away on his own, or because I have taken the final step and put him to sleep. I feel a little silly calling it "put to sleep" - but don't like the alternative "put him down". I could keep searching for other ways to say it, but think I'll just go with "put to sleep", which is what we called it when I was a kid. I knew then, and know now, that it is an act of mercy, for everyone involved really. Not something to be rushed into, but also not something to put off for too long once the time is nigh.
My husband and I took him to our vet, Dr. S, a couple of weeks ago, because he'd just gotten so skinny, and wasn't eating well.  Dr. S is a gruff, no nonsense man, like a thinner Wilfred Brimley, with sad eyes, framed by heavy, dramatically wrinkled lids. If he thinks that what you just said is kind of stupid, he doesn't  hesitate to tell you. But he's also given to displays of unexpected sweetness, saying things like "Cats don't worry or care so much about living here on earth, not like we do, and soon his little spirit will go off to kitty heaven and he'll be waiting for you when you get there."
An x-ray showed a mass. "It's pretty hard..." Dr. S said, gently probing his belly, "... and that's not a good sign, not good at all."  It was sort of near his bladder, from what we could see. Hard to tell exactly without doing a sonogram and/or exploratory surgery, which would cost $300 and $600 respectively. We don't have the money for either of those things right now, not really. I mean REALLY not really. We do not. So lucky for us, Dr. S didn't think either of those things were really worth doing. He winced when I asked about chemo or any kind of treatment, or maybe trying that exploratory surgery, to see if there was any chance of removing it.
"You need to think about how much you want to put this 15 year old kitty through." he said, not unkindly, but not all "comfort and roses" either. It was more like a little shake, to bring me to my senses. He said we could give him subcutaneous fluids to get him re-hydrated and see if that helped his appetite perk up and to call in a few days to let him know how Eric was doing. So, we took him home, did the fluid thing, and he did perk up, a little at least.
But soon he seemed to be losing ground again. When I took Eric in for another check-up, about two weeks later, he'd pretty much stopped eating, barely a tablespoon of food a day, if that, for over a week. He'd lost another pound and a half, a lot for a cat. Dr. S looked at me, sighed a sigh containing all the final sighs of all the animals he'd devoted his life and heart to, and said, "I think it's time we think about ending this for him. Are there people at home who need to say a final goodbye?"
I'm crying by now, of course. "Not really..." I say, "... my husband is out of town. He's on tour, and I'm by myself..."
He felt that I should take Eric home, spend the weekend with him. Then bring him back in on Monday. But then he realized that they wouldn't be in on Monday because of Columbus Day, and that he himself wouldn't be in again until Thursday - so - ugh. What to do?  I asked if we should do it "now, right now..." and he drew back, a little horrified, "No!"
He really, truly thought I needed to spend more time with my kitty. He wanted me to say goodbye. And I'm glad, but, it's also been a little torturous. I cried most of the rest of the day on Friday - managed to stop crying and go to work on Saturday, but only by banning all thoughts of Eric entirely. When a co-worker started to tell me about her cat's minor stomach ailment I mostly just nodded, "uh huh..." Another co-worker joined us and chirped, "They're like our children aren't they?"
I extricated myself from the conversation without anyone noticing, and made it through the rest of the job, a cocktail party for 55,  in tact. But now here I sit, at my computer, writing this essay about my dying cat, free to cry as much as I want. And because I'm also an actress, I just looked at my crying face in the mirror and thought, quite seriously, "I cry as good as Claire Danes don't I? I think I do." Thank you "Carol's Ego", for making Carol laugh.
Anyway, as sad as I am, which is very, that whole "they're like our children" business kind of bothers me. Because, I'm sorry, but they are not. Losing a pet, as sad as it is, can't possibly be like losing a child. I have nothing to base this on really, since I have no children. But I can do my best to put myself in the place of my friends who are parents. I can see the look in their eyes when they're simply showing me a picture of their child, and I can guess at the incredible pain I know they would feel at the loss of that child. I can't feel it, of course, but surely, the pain of losing a child, on a scale of 1 to 10 has got to be infinity. Beyond any conceivable scale.
The pain of losing a pet is more like losing a friend. I've lost a few friends, sadly, so I know what that's like. And that's what I'm feeling now, with Eric. He's been a good friend. And yes, a bit "child-like" in that he's an innocent little creature that I agreed to take care of. He's always been a snuggler. He's always gazed into my eyes, purring like mad, reaching out his paw to touch my face, like a lover, or yes, more accurately, like a little child, motivated by all that is good and makes life worth living; the pure pleasure of connection. He drinks my bath water for Christ's sake! Hot bath water, even it's got soap or bath oil in it, because it's mine. That's how much he loves me. So I get it, I get it when people say "they're like our children" - I just don't buy it. And I don't need to say that to justify how sad I am, which, as noted, is very. I know that when Eric finally goes, I'll cry some more, and yes, I'm crying now, but I'll stop soon enough. In a day or two at most. I'll always miss him, but it won't be a wound that never heals. Closure is possible with the loss of a pet, and even with the loss of a friend. But with the loss of a child? I don't know if closure ever comes.
What I hope is that Eric will last four more days, until Thursday, so that I can take him back to Dr. S, to have him put to sleep. But I'm not sure he'll last that long. Dr. S wasn't sure either, so he gave me a syringe that I can give Eric myself if I feel the time has arrived before Thursday. He showed me where to inject it, behind the last rib, into his side. Oh my god. Jesus Christ. I don't think I can do that. I don't want to do that. Please tell me that I don't have to do that.
And that's were I am now. Waiting. Waiting to say goodbye to my sweet kitty friend. And looking forward to the closure that I know will come, with time.

Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown (in his own words)

(interview, already in progress) ... So Paul Ryan runs into my office screaming, "He's not budging. YOU SAID HE'D BUDGE!! But he's not!! He's not going to defund Obamacare! And he won't fix the budget!! And he won't do any of the other stuff YOU SAID he'd do!!!"
"Calm down Ryan!" I said, "There's no crying in Congress!" (except for Boehner, ha ha). 
But - he just kept crying so I sent him out to get some air. Therefore, I'm afraid you'll just have to hear from me, Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown. Yes, yes, please write that down. I'd like you to write that every time you write my name. Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown. Thank you.
Wait, what did you say?? Did you seriously just ask me what is wrong with Obamacare?? Well, it's worse than slavery! It's like nine hundred nuclear bombs covered with AIDS! That's what's wrong with it! It's like something the Nazis would do! And Hitler, you know? Have you HEARD of Hitler? You're actually asking me how it's like Hitler? Well how is it not like Hitler?? That's my question to you! Can you answer that??
OK - I hear you speaking, saying things that sound like ways you think Obamacare is different from Hitler, but you might as well be speaking in some kind of foreign language to me because it doesn't make any sense and I'm not going to discuss it anymore. Next question.
What still needs to be fixed in the budget? Did you just ask me that??? Well it's too big!! Duh!! You certainly wouldn't run your household the way we run this government. Can you imagine?? Borrowing money from China to buy things for your family? Like, say you had a young son, a toddler perhaps - and you needed, of course, to buy him things, like medicine, and clothes, and toys; I guess ... though I'll tell you, and this is true, kids are usually pretty happy with a box. That's what I get my kids every year, for birthdays and Christmas too. I go to all the big toy stores and snag some really good boxes, right there in the dumpster, in perfectly good condition, usually with pictures of toys right on them and  I give those boxes to my kids instead of toys and they're happy as can be! OH sure they whine about it at first, "But Daddy! Our friends get the actual toys! Not just the boxes!" But then when I explain to them the fiscal sense of my giving them free boxes, instead of paying good money for toys, Chinese toys that are very likely covered in poison and poop germs, well, they stop crying and sit down with those boxes and have a ball. Kids love fiscal sense! It makes 'em feel safe! Why the Democrats don't want their kids to feel safe I couldn't tell you, but they don't, which is why they reject the laws of fiscal sense. And why they don't understand that we need to run the government like a household. "But our government's not like a household Congressman Cruz!" people say. "Yes!" It is!" I say. End of discussion. 
Do I know economists disagree with me on that? Well I guess if I believed in economists that would mean something to me, but you know, I might as well believe in The Tooth Fairy. Economists are just like scientists. They believe all this mumbo jumbo based on research and stuff, and they've got charts and graphs that they CLAIM show facts and stuff, but the real deal is this ... God tells me what I need to know. End of story. I get a message from God, and I get that message pretty much every hour on the hour, and that message is this. "Ted! Don't cave. Don't listen to 'em. Don't let that bastard win!" That's right. God, speaking DIRECTLY TO ME, refers to President Obama as a bastard!! Listen, I wouldn't believe it if I didn't hear it myself, every hour on the hour, but I do. I tried to record it on my iphone, so I could play it for everyone in the world, but - of course, you can't capture the voice of our Heavenly Father on a worldly mobile device. And I was arrogant to think I could, so God took me down a peg for that by giving me a pretty mean case of diarrhea! Now a lot of other Reps got it as well and they think it's because our Government Shutdown sent all the staff home from the Congressional dining hall meaning we had to prepare our own grub and somebody (I'm looking at you Boehner!) probably didn't wash their hands properly after going to the bathroom. But - well - I don't know - even though other people got it too, I still think my diarrhea is special and was sent from God. And as far as I'm concerned, what I think goes, know what I mean? I don't need to "listen to other people" or "weigh the facts" or "learn from history" or any of that. I've got me, myself and I, and, of course, Him, and those are the only Facts that I need to weigh. So here's the deal. God says "Ted Cruz! Mastermind of the Government Shutdown! That bastard cannot win under any circumstances!"
His words - not mine. So, even if everything ends up getting destroyed to achieve that, well, as we all know, God has destroyed things before. So - if he wants to do that again, through me, then I, his humble servant, have no choice in the matter. Because God hates that bastard Obama! It's not up to me, and Amen to that! Because that would be a lot of pressure! And I probably wouldn't be up to the task IF it weren't for God guiding me: Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown.
End it like that, if you don't mind. I just love the way that sounds you know? Oops! I've got to run to the bathroom. If you'll excuse me.