This has been an awful year. From the insane job stress to our family’s various surgeries, the loss of my wife’s mom and the general political climate of insane right wingers and spineless lefties, it has been all around shit. We might be losing the greatest cat of all time, who has declined severely since last night, barely moving, wheezing, and generally suffering. We’re still giving her antibiotics, and the painkillers keep her from panicking, but it’s 50/50 now as to whether this is the end or not.
Our vet doesn’t open until Tuesday. There’s an emergency vet to go to in Windsor if we need it, but I don’t want to drive for an hour and sit for six or seven more just to put her down. We were told the last time that we couldn’t take our baby boy Loki home with us (though the vet knew us well and let us do it anyway), because you’re not supposed to bury pets in your yard. At the unfamiliar vet in Windsor, it would be devastating not to be able to bring her home after she was gone.
So here’s hoping for recovery, and preparing for not. Peace out to 2022. You were a fucking piece of garbage.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 211 words, novella: The Mungk