cake for breakfast

I had a slice of cake for breakfast. I just may have one for lunch too.

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I miss Mickey.

I frosted my cake but didn’t even have a slice. I had a few licks of frosting.

I miss Mickey.

I’m going to bed.

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Miserable

Miserable
Here I sit in my sad little home. David has thrown himself into bed, I think for the night. Misty is in the hall. Charlie’s MIA — probably under a tablecloth somewhere. It’s too quiet.

At about 6:00, I received a call from a UoP Vet Hospital social worker. Seems we were a bit upset last night (duh!) and the business office was concerned. I had a lovely 10 minute telephone call/counseling session with a very kind woman. She’s sending me a packet and has invited me to a pet bereavement class. She also told me to get David and go and do something tonight. I was very touched that they thought they had to contact me. Now I can finally say I’ve spoken to a social worker. (rolls eyes)

After my counselling session, I made the world’s worst Spanish omlet. Eggs, tostitos salsa, cheddar cheese. It sucked. Really bad. So bad that I baked a Duncan Hines chocolate cake to make myself feel better. (Note to self: this kind of behavior is how you got to be 178 lbs)

I cannot sit here all night. I’ll go nuts.

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I made it into work today…

I made it into work today. With the three-day weekend coming up, I think I can tough out one day here.

Looking back at my last two blog entries, it’s apparent that much happened between “I do think we’ll be taking Mickey home alive.” and “Our Mickey passed to the Rainbow Bridge tonight. “

In a nutshell, he had an afternoon of tough tests. The results didn’t let us know exactly WHY he was so sick. But we did learn that his right lung was almost flooded with a bloody mucus, his heart was pretty damaged, his liver was enlarged, and he had four bodily systems in failure. He had to be sedated because he didn’t feel comfortable breathing while lying down. The alternatives were 1) more tests, involving general anesthesia from which he probably wouldn’t survive; 2) a “Wait and See” approach, where we’d let him linger for 3 or 4 days and see if he inexplicably gets better, or 3) do the ‘humane’ thing and let him go.

We decided to let him go. Dr. Biele affirmed that our decision was, in fact, the humane one. It’s not good when a doctor says, “There are just so many things wrong with him.” They eased up on the sedation so that Mickey would be up and about when we said goodbye. He licked our hands and wagged his tail happily when he saw us (David, Mom, John, and me) . That was very hard — I almost wish that they had left him sedated. Mom and David stayed with him as he fell asleep. It was quick and peaceful. I stayed outside the room with John. I’m such a wimp. Dr. Biele gave us a piece of clay with an imprint of Mickey’s paw and his name etched into it. I baked it last night. It’s on Noelle’s shelf, along with Mickey’s picture.

The apartment is amazingly quiet without him. Cats are quiet beasts, except when they fight. There’s a certain joy to a house that only a dog can bring.

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