20th July 2012 Friday
The pussy cat lets the vet feel his stomach, stick a needle in his neck and shoot a tablet down his throat without a squeak. I didn’t want this for him but I couldn’t bear the other option yet. Feels like we are buying him a bit of time - its palliative now - mild chemo to help him feel better - maybe kill some cells. We can only see if it makes any difference even for a little while. And if not decide otherwise. But not tonight.
Already he has perked up and has eaten small amounts of horrible Felix cat food, tuna, roast beef and parmesan cheese He sits next to me on the kitchen floor in radiant sunlight while I roll out pastry, chop rhubarb, mix up flapjack, and boil beetroot.
I’m trusting now that he’ll let us know when it’s the right time. And maybe all decisions are right. Right to treat him and also right to let him go.....whatever happens the love remains.
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