Kelli and I agreed it would be better for her to stay and die here at home. Without the chaos of being loaded into the truck and taken to a strange place to die. But Doc said Monday. If she makes it to Monday morning, he was making the arrangements. He can't bear to see her like this. I'm doing most of the caring and feeding and cleaning and cuddling and stuff. He's really avoiding the whole thing. He did the same with Henry and Chloe. It was up to me to do the "dirty work" of caring for them while they suffered. I don't think he realizes how traumatizing this is for me, too.
But, I want this to end. I want LeLu at peace, and I want him to stop being such a right bastard. Because on the back burner there is still this hacker thing, and I still don't know who it was or if they were done with me or scared off by the FBI shout out. And my damn tooth hurts. It's just everything. If there was a god, he would be a sicker humoured mother fucker than even me.
Someone on twitter today asked if we believed in fate. I said, "I tend to believe in fate when something good happens. When something bad happens, I believe in stupid." I could start the most convoluted religion, if I only had the charisma. And teeth. Teeth would be good with the whole trusting thing. People don't trust you when you don't have teeth. It's like, if you can't hold on to your own teeth, how can I trust you with anything of mine?
When I lay her down, which I must, because she can't move on her own, all coordination is gone, I must make sure all of her legs and tail are in comfortable positions because she cannot adjust them.
I'm going to go now, and hold her in my lap as long as she'll let me.
I appreciate the good thoughts and prayers and juju coming her way. Awe, she just mustered the strength to stretch out. Cool.