2003-09-02 - 11:29 p.m.

Its funny- you pour out your heart and soul onto page oftyped words, you feel almost done.

You feel empty, better maybe.

Drained. You cried it all out, you couldnt see the keys half the time thorugh tears

and then it all goes away

the words I mean

and it's strange because the cause goes back to some unarticulate place-

You yawn. You feel a loss bu not as great next to your pain that caused the words in the first place.

You think of cursing the computer.

But it doesn't seme worth it

YOU know nothing will every be right as those words were. You already got the catharsis out-

who does it help?

You all I suppose.

My cat is dying.

He has cancer we think. He has bloody drool, a big tumor on his jaw, few teeth, diabetes and looks like a wreck.

But he;s my guy.

The orignial dignified cat in a tux, imperturbable at all times,

and you get torn between wanting him to die peacefully in his sleep

but then you get scared that it wont be peaceful - that he'll wake up in the end, in pain, alone and in the dark, too weak to cry or come upstairs.

I am the last to leave and the first to come home

it may be immature but I dont want to find him

Not because of ookiness but because that won't be him. SO I wont be able toi say goodbye

I'm afraid he;ll die not knwoing what a good cat he was. Not knowing he was the favorite, the best hte most cat. He was first, he is the last of all his relatives, there is none like him left.

I don't know how to help him- should i be pushing for euthanasia?

He still seems to want his soupy food and his petting. He sleeps more, his eye are sinking. he eats what I make for him

he cries louder when I pick him up- I think it hurts.

he has the pot belley and thin spine that speaks of cancer

and I dont know

i just cant say

or do anything

and I remember one night years ago it started to rain and it was night- like 1 am and I woke up and I knew he wanted to come in. And when I went downstairs he was there.

and he just has thos einscurtable eyes- he sees so much and he won't trouble you with it- why do yo need to hear about the pains and the aches-

he';s like some big silent archetype of an indian- silent hunter-

I can still see him trotting through the backyard with a dead thing in his mouth. He never brought us his kills- he et them.

And you all

you don't know what cat I mean. I know all your pets I have met.

I have a lot of cats.

I dont really feel like answering the inevitable- "poh was he the white one?" or seeing in your eyes that you dont remember him, or are consufisn g him with the black cat.

So if you read this and want to say somehting nice to me, I'd appreciate it if you think about adopting a cat.

I know a few ( quite a few) who need homes.

That would mean a lot to me.

He;s dying. Not alone, outside cold and wet. No in a cage never loved or petted.

He's dying at home. With his family.

Every cat deserves a family.

Obviously

Well, I never claimed to not be a prickly person.

His name is Punky. He is a jellicle cat. He is 17.5 years old. This is his second house, on the same street. He was the only black and white kitten in his litter. He is a character- all the vets are/were scared of him. He can still claw them but good- less teeth now though.

I do believe I am going downstairs now. I;m going to make his bed a little nicer.

Logically I know it;s silly to think he won't remeber the years of affection and attention but it all comes down to now- what if there were time sI didn't hear him when he wnated to come in?

I didin;t think I had any tears left.

Ha

-bsg-

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