An interruption in time
Has it really only been two weeks since my last post? It feels like a lifetime ago.
The briefest of fiber updates: the shawl is finished and blocked. Not photographed yet. Cast on a Jaywalkers sock in the larger size - too tight around the ankle. Will retry with a larger needle.
Spinning - despite good intentions of spinning every day on vacation, I was too exhausted from chasing the kids (Audrey and her cousins) around the beach. Missed too many days to claim my yellow jersey in the Tour. I did exceed my goal of trying 3 new fibers however - I spun 4! Much plying to come in future weeks.
Finished Harry Potter (Book 7) in 3 nights.
And at home...
Zoey has taken a sharp turn for the worse. She is aware of the tumor now, and as it is an open and weeping sore, it stings her when she eats. Watching her try to scrape it away with her paws is too terrible. I have been trying to rationalize not euthanizing her by looking at the good hours, as she purrs in my lap or comes looking for a treat (which she struggles to eat). But I know she is getting worse, not better. Last night the voice in my head asked me "what are you waiting for? For her to be in pain full time?" And I know it is more humane to end this before she reaches this point. This weekend I think, will be her last. 13 summers since my friends found her in the town softball field on the north side of Bloomington, IN. And until last year, so healthy. I tell myself this would be easier if she was acting "sick" - not eating, laying around ill, in obvious pain. But I know it would be cruel now to wait that long, since the end result will be the same. How do animals perceive their own lives? She is aware something is different, I'm sure. She is sleeping on my bed again this week, after having not done so for several years. She seeks my lap over my husband's - unusual for her. Is she looking for a last dose of affection? Or trying to tell me she wants out? I wish they could talk.
Just not feeling like photographing anything lately. You understand.
The briefest of fiber updates: the shawl is finished and blocked. Not photographed yet. Cast on a Jaywalkers sock in the larger size - too tight around the ankle. Will retry with a larger needle.
Spinning - despite good intentions of spinning every day on vacation, I was too exhausted from chasing the kids (Audrey and her cousins) around the beach. Missed too many days to claim my yellow jersey in the Tour. I did exceed my goal of trying 3 new fibers however - I spun 4! Much plying to come in future weeks.
Finished Harry Potter (Book 7) in 3 nights.
And at home...
Zoey has taken a sharp turn for the worse. She is aware of the tumor now, and as it is an open and weeping sore, it stings her when she eats. Watching her try to scrape it away with her paws is too terrible. I have been trying to rationalize not euthanizing her by looking at the good hours, as she purrs in my lap or comes looking for a treat (which she struggles to eat). But I know she is getting worse, not better. Last night the voice in my head asked me "what are you waiting for? For her to be in pain full time?" And I know it is more humane to end this before she reaches this point. This weekend I think, will be her last. 13 summers since my friends found her in the town softball field on the north side of Bloomington, IN. And until last year, so healthy. I tell myself this would be easier if she was acting "sick" - not eating, laying around ill, in obvious pain. But I know it would be cruel now to wait that long, since the end result will be the same. How do animals perceive their own lives? She is aware something is different, I'm sure. She is sleeping on my bed again this week, after having not done so for several years. She seeks my lap over my husband's - unusual for her. Is she looking for a last dose of affection? Or trying to tell me she wants out? I wish they could talk.
Just not feeling like photographing anything lately. You understand.
2 Comments:
I know how hard it is to put down a beloved pet. I've gone through it three times, but when you do it and realize that they're out of pain and no longer suffering, it is a small comfort. I'll be praying for you!
I'm so sorry about your kitty. Sometimes I think it's amazing that we get so attached to our little furballs. Other times I think, well, how can we possibly help it?
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