Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Goodbye, my friend

Stick a fucking fork in me, I'm done.

Zamboni went from his normal loving Maine Coon self to hiding. One night, he was normal kitty. Next day, after not seeing him all day, I hunted him down to find him hiding under Thing 2's dresser. He was yellow. Skin, eyes, mouth. Overfuckingnight. Don't ask me to spell the hepatic whatever.

We took him to the vet immediately. He'd been there since Thursday, I think. This last week has blurred with everything else going on. He wouldn't eat at all, he was on an IV, they were having to force feed him. He wasn't improving, but he was at least stable.

Until today. When DG went in to see him, he was just laying there and drooling. DG knew something was really wrong when they took him straight to a room instead of to Zam's cage.

I know DG made the right decision in having the vet go ahead and put him down. Zam was suffering, and the vet thinks there may have been a cancer involved, or some other problem they hadn't found yet, because this sort of mass liver failure usually attacks older cats.

What sends me into total hysterics is that DG didn't come home and get me first. I didn't get to say goodbye. I'm mad, I'm furious, I'm hysterical. This was MY cat. I know that he didn't want me to go through it again after Blackthorne, but dammit....

The vet will send his ashes home to us. I need to find the perfect container. If anyone has any ideas, please help, because right now I can't think straight at all.

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