Some things are more important than others

I am exhausted. Physically, yes, but even more so emotionally.

Is the life and death of a seven-month-old kitten more important than my second New Testament: Gospels paper? I don't know; but I do know that I haven't had even a scrap of the wherewithal to get going on it up to now, and that it ain't gonna happen tonight either.

That will leave me tomorrow to produce it in. Oh swell. Should I pull an all-nighter just when the antibiotics are starting to kick in? (I finally went to see a doctor; I now have pills that cost eleven dollars apiece, if you can believe it.)

See Pascale. See Pascale weep. See Pascale's academic reputation go down the tubes. Slide, Pascale, slide. It's a slippery slope, but going downhill isn't as easy as it looks.

Goodbye sweet girl

The best, most affectionate, most beautiful kitty in the world is gone. I had to say goodbye to her before she started to suffer.

She is buried in the back yard of good friends, under a young magnolia tree. There is a rose in the grave with her, and one on the fresh mound of earth.

I am so sad I can hardly breathe.

If Ariel does not run up to me ~ chirping a greeting and purring her wonderfully warm, loud purr ~ when I knock on heaven's door, then I don't want to go there. Send me to the other place.

Midterminated

Well, my Overview of Christian Theology mid-term exam is over. While not an utter debacle, it hardly represents my best and most shining self. And I'm afraid I abased myself to be one of those students who makes a special pleading for her inadequacies with the professor after it was over.

Gah. I'm embarassed to be me.

So, to summarize: still sick, still sad, still overwhelmed. And now feeling like an idiot too. Oh goodie.

And still she purrs...

She's eating very little, and isn't much interested in playing. But
she still purrs when she snuggles up to me in the morning. She purrs
when she sits on my lap. She purrs when I scratch under her chin,
usually.

Life is not what it was for her. But, today, I think it is still good
enough.

In front of and behind the big belly, she is getting very skinny. I
hope I will be brave enough to recognize when that "good enough" is
no longer true.

Ariel has FIP

It's quite certain now.

FIP is pretty much invariably fatal. Perhaps Ariel can be a miracle kitty and survive, but I must expect that she will not.

Now I have to decide how long she will live and how she will die.

She has the "wet" version of the disease, which tends to progress quite quickly. At the moment she doesn't seem to be unhappy or uncomfortable, although she's not eating much and is sleeping a lot. I don't want her to suffer, and so it seems it would be better for her end to come earlier rather than too much later. I have no idea how to make that decision, but I don't want my fear and anxiety to cause her pain that could and should be avoided.

Friendship Hospital gave me the numbers of a couple of vets who make house calls, and who might be able to provide the good death here at home. I think we would both prefer that.

My heart is breaking for the little girl who is so sweet and good.

Beyond Price

My heart is breaking. The little girl has developed a bulge in her midsection. This is a very bad sign, as fluid in the abdomen is one of the major indications of FIP.

I'm taking her to the vet tomorrow late afternoon. Please pray for us.

How Much Is That Kitty in the Window?

NOT FOR SALE at any price!

Things She Does That Are Adorable

• Prefers to curl up on chairs that I have just vacated, no matter how temporarily. Clearly, the seat I have been in must be the best seat.


• Reaches out to touch my cheek with her right paw and looks deeply into my eyes to convey how wonderful it is that I am paying attention to her. She's the only kitty I know who doesn't prefer that you blink slowly and regularly when looking her in the eye.


• Accompanies me to the bathroom and pees when I pee. If I'm doing it, it must be time for her to do it too, apparently.


• Takes up position between the transparent curtain liner and the bath curtain when I'm showering. That way she can keep an eye on me and on the water droplets that chase down the liner in such a charming fashion. She also will keep watch while all the water drains from the tub, because nothing is more fascinating than water in the vicinity of a drain, except perhaps water in a toilet.


• Stands on the back of my office chair with her front paws on my shoulder and gnaws gently on my ear. This is to signify that insufficient attention is being paid.


• Delivers a musical kitty-chirp when I sing out "Where's the kitty? I don't see a kitty anywhere around here." It's like one of those key-finder thingamabobs.
  
  
• Repositions herself half a dozen times in my lap while I brush her, thus insuring that every portion of her body receives an appropriate level of brushing.

Someday I'll make a list of the not-so-cute things she does. But her adorableness is slaying me today.