Not only mine, but a partner’s, too…
Last week started off shit. One of my partner’s said she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything romantic with me anymore, over dinner that I prepared, at my home—so that sucked.
Then, on Tuesday, Monti, my cat, started breathing weird. I took him to the vet immediately, found out he has a mass in his chest that caused his lungs to fill with a fluid. It was either surgery or radiation/chemo, which meant him suffering for a period of time that I couldn’t predict. He was euthanized later that day. I said my goodbye to him, yet couldn’t watch him pass. Monticore Wallace Quinlin was 13.
Since then, a hairbrush, replacement mat, and replacement bowl have came in the mail—as if the Cat Gawds aren’t cruel enough.
To make things worse, one of my partner’s (C) cats also had to be euthanized. Tabby was her name, ~16-17 years old, according to C. Tabby was old: smelt of piss constantly and had a hard time eating.
So, C and I have been consoling each other for the last week or so, giving each other the required affection we desire and need.
I love C. We both professed our love to one another right when Monti died. I needed it. She’s incredibly smart, wise beyond her 32 years, compassionate, reasonable, and sturdy. She’s stunningly sexy: legs for days, dimples for weeks, and a stare that’ll grasp you for months on end. I’m stupendously lucky.
Anyway, SG, I love you all, hope y’all are behaving and taking care of you and yours. Mwah! 💋 😘 😚
