Preface:
In 2023, a feral kitten that I'd found in my car died a few days after getting spayed. She was declining, but the vet said she'd be sick for awhile, and going back to soon would stress her too much. She was feral. He said that I could bring her to him Monday after the weekend if she was still sick. They were closed for Good Friday.
The morning she died, I woke up to her agonal breaths. I could hear her across the room over my cpap. I jumped out of bed and ran to her, but before I could finish putting in my pants, she died. I went into extreme denial, and drove her to the emergency vet. But I knew she was dead because she looked dead. I just refused to believe it. I drove my dead kitten to the vet on a Saturday. Today, Saturday, August 23, I drove my dead dog to the vet. I woke up just before my mom went to wake him up, and I knew. Once I heard her panic, it was confirmed. Then the same denial kicked in.
Today:
He had been sick and vomiting all day and night. He was diagnosed with pancreatitis at the vet, but he already had Addison's Disease. The vet sent him home for the weekend with some medication, food, and treatment instructions. He drank a lot of water and again vomited all night. We woke up to him dead in a pool of vomit and urine. I rubbed him and put my head against his chest. I heard some rumbling, and his paw was twitching. I yelled to my mom that he was alive and we need to get him to an emergency vet. There was a lot of screaming and crying, and as I was carrying him out of the door he was completely limp. I knew then. But my denial defense told me not to give up. He was dead as we were driving. I kept rubbing him and slapping him and yelling to keep him awake, but he wasn't blinking. I knew. I kept driving. The vet said he was gone. But I had to ask if there wasn't a heartbeat at all. He was already in rigor mortis.
My mom was worried last night, but her denial defense is harder than mine. She kept saying he'd be okay. She was offended by me telling her not to pet him too rough and asking her what meds she gave him. The whole time he was sick she complained about how much it would cost. I spent all my money, and with my new coping mechanism being impulsive shopping, along with deciding to get a loan for lifetime laser treatments for my hirsutism, needing vision insurance for a discount on RGP contacts to for my strong astigmatism, and still needing to pay for my groceries, gas, medicine etc. etc. I've gone deep into debt. I've NEVER been bad with money. My credit score went down 100 points in a couple of months. I just couldn't pay anymore.
It was always a shouting match to get her to go to the vet. She's always yelling about money, money, money. We're poor. But she chose to spend what little money she had on her own impulsive spending issues. She's dodging process servers, choosing to believe they're scammers who keep coming to our house.
She's just extraordinarily childish and irresponsible.
The dogs, themselves, were impulsive purchases.
She hated dogs, but he was cute and she was cute.
I told her we couldn't afford a second dog, and our boy was already a lot for us. Plus, he hated dogs.
Both of our dogs have/had lifelong illnesses that require/required daily treatment. Years ago, she got rid of the pet insurance because she had to pay upfront and wait for a reimbursement. I told her not to. I told her almost every day to stop feeding them greasy, fatty pork, fried chicken, chicken nuggets, and hot dogs. I told her to stop feeding them 6 treats a day. But, "That's all they want! You try to feed them, then!"
He got pancreatitis from the fatty food. It triggered Addisonian crisis.
She just kept saying, "He'll be okay." "Who gonna pay for the vet? You?!"
I did. Every time.
She told me to get out today. She always does that when she's mad at me. This time, I cussed her out, stepped to her when she stepped to me, and told her she doesn't deserve the respect she expects for being my mother.
This was after I yelled at her for saying she was gonna feed our other dog food that she's allergic to. She still cares more about herself. Now she's sobbing and lost. She doesn't love our girl. He was the one for her.
I stayed for him. I knew when I looked in his eyes that night he was gonna die. I gave my one last bit of hope that he would make it until noon when the emergency vet in town opened. There was another emergency vet in a nearby town about 20-30 min. away, but my mom was asleep, and I didn't have enough credit left. She thought he would be okay. I checked on him a few times before going to sleep myself in the morning hours of the night. I wanted to lie with him on the floor, but he would walk around a lot looking lost and breathing heavy and gagging. I needed something soft because of my bone and joint illnesses. I thought it wouldn't help anyway because he wouldn't stay in one place. I've tried to comfort him in my bed many times, and he always wanted to walk around instead or hide. He couldn't stay still when he felt bad or was scared. I tried to check his gums for discoloration earlier in the night, but his mouth has black spots, and my mom started criticizing so I couldn't really tell.
I half believe in multiple universes, and my complete deterioration has made me 1/4 believe in some unknown force.
So before writing this, I "prayed" to "whatever" or "whoever" that in every universe that ever exists he would be protected.
This past year and a half, I've felt an overwhelming sense of doom. I started believing that I was gonna die soon.
I stayed alive for them. I couldn't just leave them with her. I hated the idea of giving them away or selling them because they have/had insane separation anxiety. A lifetime of expensive medications pushes people away.
I kissed him, and told him that whatever spirits exist would take care of him. I felt that they were going to take him away. But I tried to not believe it. I'm an atheist, but that doesn't mean that other things don't exist. If you asked me, I'll always say it's not impossible, but not likely to be true. I just still engage in so much magical thinking. And it hasn't been getting better with my prediction happening.
It was hard to get to sleep. Like I said, I 1/4 believe because I've felt since the beginning of last year that terrible things would start happening soon. I didn't think I'd make it through last year. Nor this year. I just kept feeling like I was going to die soon. And now half of my reason to stay is gone.
I told my mom that I'd really move out this time because I was only staying for them. Our other dog is a Chihuahua. He was a small dog as well, but tooooo talkative for a co-living situation (lol) which is all I would've been able to afford if I worked my full 29 hours.
I'm psychiatrically disabled. Disability (SSDI) is a poverty trap, and it's worse if you have a psychiatric disability. If they even let you in.
I'm gonna leave now. All day I've been thinking that it's time to leave and die. My reason for living is gone. But I still have my girl. So I have to stay a little longer for her. I decided that if I can find the fortitude to make enough money to take care of us both, I'm leaving and taking her with me in the night. But she's bonded to my mom, and Chihuahuas are like guinea pigs with their people.
Honestly, I still don't know what to do. Without my mom, she would be a wreck. She stares at her all day. When she's with me, she's craning her neck to look out the door for her.
It sounds obvious to just take her and go, but I worry the stress would kill her.
Right now, I'm gonna start selling stuff and throwing them away. I have too many things. I'm starting sex work in the phone sex field. It's as hard to break into as any other, but it's much smaller than the cam scene. I'm not precious about sex work. It's the stigma that's kept me away. I'm demi, so in person work would just be dry and not fun and way more dangerous. But I've got nothing more to lose. I don't care about opinions. I do care about banking and renting problems, but there are ways around those.
I feel empty. I vacillate between crying and dissociation or depersonalization. I'm just done.
But the thing that's changed in me is the new belief that the love is worth the pain. Because he gave me so much hope and peace. I grounded myself by just putting my face to his or just somewhere in his fur.
He was worth it.
In 2023, a feral kitten that I'd found in my car died a few days after getting spayed. She was declining, but the vet said she'd be sick for awhile, and going back to soon would stress her too much. She was feral. He said that I could bring her to him Monday after the weekend if she was still sick. They were closed for Good Friday.
The morning she died, I woke up to her agonal breaths. I could hear her across the room over my cpap. I jumped out of bed and ran to her, but before I could finish putting in my pants, she died. I went into extreme denial, and drove her to the emergency vet. But I knew she was dead because she looked dead. I just refused to believe it. I drove my dead kitten to the vet on a Saturday. Today, Saturday, August 23, I drove my dead dog to the vet. I woke up just before my mom went to wake him up, and I knew. Once I heard her panic, it was confirmed. Then the same denial kicked in.
Today:
He had been sick and vomiting all day and night. He was diagnosed with pancreatitis at the vet, but he already had Addison's Disease. The vet sent him home for the weekend with some medication, food, and treatment instructions. He drank a lot of water and again vomited all night. We woke up to him dead in a pool of vomit and urine. I rubbed him and put my head against his chest. I heard some rumbling, and his paw was twitching. I yelled to my mom that he was alive and we need to get him to an emergency vet. There was a lot of screaming and crying, and as I was carrying him out of the door he was completely limp. I knew then. But my denial defense told me not to give up. He was dead as we were driving. I kept rubbing him and slapping him and yelling to keep him awake, but he wasn't blinking. I knew. I kept driving. The vet said he was gone. But I had to ask if there wasn't a heartbeat at all. He was already in rigor mortis.
My mom was worried last night, but her denial defense is harder than mine. She kept saying he'd be okay. She was offended by me telling her not to pet him too rough and asking her what meds she gave him. The whole time he was sick she complained about how much it would cost. I spent all my money, and with my new coping mechanism being impulsive shopping, along with deciding to get a loan for lifetime laser treatments for my hirsutism, needing vision insurance for a discount on RGP contacts to for my strong astigmatism, and still needing to pay for my groceries, gas, medicine etc. etc. I've gone deep into debt. I've NEVER been bad with money. My credit score went down 100 points in a couple of months. I just couldn't pay anymore.
It was always a shouting match to get her to go to the vet. She's always yelling about money, money, money. We're poor. But she chose to spend what little money she had on her own impulsive spending issues. She's dodging process servers, choosing to believe they're scammers who keep coming to our house.
She's just extraordinarily childish and irresponsible.
The dogs, themselves, were impulsive purchases.
She hated dogs, but he was cute and she was cute.
I told her we couldn't afford a second dog, and our boy was already a lot for us. Plus, he hated dogs.
Both of our dogs have/had lifelong illnesses that require/required daily treatment. Years ago, she got rid of the pet insurance because she had to pay upfront and wait for a reimbursement. I told her not to. I told her almost every day to stop feeding them greasy, fatty pork, fried chicken, chicken nuggets, and hot dogs. I told her to stop feeding them 6 treats a day. But, "That's all they want! You try to feed them, then!"
He got pancreatitis from the fatty food. It triggered Addisonian crisis.
She just kept saying, "He'll be okay." "Who gonna pay for the vet? You?!"
I did. Every time.
She told me to get out today. She always does that when she's mad at me. This time, I cussed her out, stepped to her when she stepped to me, and told her she doesn't deserve the respect she expects for being my mother.
This was after I yelled at her for saying she was gonna feed our other dog food that she's allergic to. She still cares more about herself. Now she's sobbing and lost. She doesn't love our girl. He was the one for her.
I stayed for him. I knew when I looked in his eyes that night he was gonna die. I gave my one last bit of hope that he would make it until noon when the emergency vet in town opened. There was another emergency vet in a nearby town about 20-30 min. away, but my mom was asleep, and I didn't have enough credit left. She thought he would be okay. I checked on him a few times before going to sleep myself in the morning hours of the night. I wanted to lie with him on the floor, but he would walk around a lot looking lost and breathing heavy and gagging. I needed something soft because of my bone and joint illnesses. I thought it wouldn't help anyway because he wouldn't stay in one place. I've tried to comfort him in my bed many times, and he always wanted to walk around instead or hide. He couldn't stay still when he felt bad or was scared. I tried to check his gums for discoloration earlier in the night, but his mouth has black spots, and my mom started criticizing so I couldn't really tell.
I half believe in multiple universes, and my complete deterioration has made me 1/4 believe in some unknown force.
So before writing this, I "prayed" to "whatever" or "whoever" that in every universe that ever exists he would be protected.
This past year and a half, I've felt an overwhelming sense of doom. I started believing that I was gonna die soon.
I stayed alive for them. I couldn't just leave them with her. I hated the idea of giving them away or selling them because they have/had insane separation anxiety. A lifetime of expensive medications pushes people away.
I kissed him, and told him that whatever spirits exist would take care of him. I felt that they were going to take him away. But I tried to not believe it. I'm an atheist, but that doesn't mean that other things don't exist. If you asked me, I'll always say it's not impossible, but not likely to be true. I just still engage in so much magical thinking. And it hasn't been getting better with my prediction happening.
It was hard to get to sleep. Like I said, I 1/4 believe because I've felt since the beginning of last year that terrible things would start happening soon. I didn't think I'd make it through last year. Nor this year. I just kept feeling like I was going to die soon. And now half of my reason to stay is gone.
I told my mom that I'd really move out this time because I was only staying for them. Our other dog is a Chihuahua. He was a small dog as well, but tooooo talkative for a co-living situation (lol) which is all I would've been able to afford if I worked my full 29 hours.
I'm psychiatrically disabled. Disability (SSDI) is a poverty trap, and it's worse if you have a psychiatric disability. If they even let you in.
I'm gonna leave now. All day I've been thinking that it's time to leave and die. My reason for living is gone. But I still have my girl. So I have to stay a little longer for her. I decided that if I can find the fortitude to make enough money to take care of us both, I'm leaving and taking her with me in the night. But she's bonded to my mom, and Chihuahuas are like guinea pigs with their people.
Honestly, I still don't know what to do. Without my mom, she would be a wreck. She stares at her all day. When she's with me, she's craning her neck to look out the door for her.
It sounds obvious to just take her and go, but I worry the stress would kill her.
Right now, I'm gonna start selling stuff and throwing them away. I have too many things. I'm starting sex work in the phone sex field. It's as hard to break into as any other, but it's much smaller than the cam scene. I'm not precious about sex work. It's the stigma that's kept me away. I'm demi, so in person work would just be dry and not fun and way more dangerous. But I've got nothing more to lose. I don't care about opinions. I do care about banking and renting problems, but there are ways around those.
I feel empty. I vacillate between crying and dissociation or depersonalization. I'm just done.
But the thing that's changed in me is the new belief that the love is worth the pain. Because he gave me so much hope and peace. I grounded myself by just putting my face to his or just somewhere in his fur.
He was worth it.
