I'm really upset, I think that there is something wrong with my little Milo.

I mean, I know that there is something wrong with him, he is fifteen years old and has been less than well for a year and a half or so. He lost alot of weight and was having trouble with his kidneys, according to the vet, but was eating well and seemed to be feeling fine, constantly going upstairs to the Callahans and yelling to get in, tromping around eating dropped food from under the high chair and basically acting as though he owned the place.

Recently, over the past few months, it seemed as though he had stopped losing weight, that he was maintaining, and he started sleeping under the covers with me every night, until Sunday. He wouldn't eat dinner, and he started sleeping on a pile of clothes in the bedroom where Elvis usually sleeps.

In the morning I picked him up and took him to his bowl, but he wouldn't eat. He just went back to the pile of clothes. At night, when I got home, he still wouldn't eat, dry food or wet food, and he did this weird thing where he sat over the water bowl, as though he was drinking, but he wasn't. He sat there for a long time, maybe ten minutes, before finally starting to drink.

When he left the water bowl, he had all of this ropey drool hanging off of his chin, like he was having trouble swallowing. He went and laid down in the bedroom, then about fifteen minutes later, got back up and went to the kitchen and drank again, only sitting over the water for a minute or two this time, and there wasn't any drool when he went back. He kept getting up every twenty minutes or so and kept doing the same thing.

Just on Saturday he was fine, he was. He ate and drank and used the cat box and came upstairs and visited with Cynthia and Fran and me as we watched the boxing and then part of Gladiator. And then around halfway through Sunday (I think he had breakfast), he just started losing ground and acting strange.

I don't want him to die, I couldn't bear it. I mean, I know that he must sometime, but Rhubarb was skinny and old and had kidney problems and lived to be 20. She probably had the problems for five years before she died, if not longer, I want Milo to solder on that long, too. Not in pain, Rhubarb had no pain, she was just getting old.

And Milo is old, much older than the other cats, no matter the fact that Monty is actually sixteen to his fifteen, Milo is the one that carries all of the age. And I know that it must be a heavy load for him, but I don't want him to go, I really don't.

And the worst part is that I cannot take him to the vet today, The Raccoon won't be in and I must go in early, then is tech, which I also cannot miss. I want to take him to the vet, but I'm so scared that they would put him to sleep, that they would gently say that there was nothing that they could do, and perhaps it would be better this way...

Please no. It wouldn't be better, it couldn't be. He has to live with me and sleep under the covers and bully Monty and cuddle in my lap and bother the Callahans and do everything that he has always done. That's better, that's what would be better, not going away and never coming back. Not leaving me.

Today's horoscope:
You could try to do too much today. Optimism leads you to think you can handle everything: beware and be practical.

One year ago today:
"Where the fuck are the keys?"

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Last Updated Tues 20 February 08:34:09 2001