#loki kitty

Also me, chasing my cat around the house: demon! Asshole! Give me back my SOCKS!! LiTtLe ShIt!

I sure don’t! Unless you count my fur baby Loki, which I sure do!!

My precious boy Loki crossed the rainbow bridge on Tuesday night.

He got sick on Tuesday, a bout of urinary crystals that completely blocked his urinary tract. He had a history of this problem, but it had only happened once before, ten years ago when he was 2 years old. This time it was a much worse case of it.

Still, I took him to the vet expecting them to clear the blockage and put him on anti-inflammatory meds the same as before (and the same as when Neko and Dion had this same problem in the past), only to be told that this time the issue was so bad that unblocking him would lead to a host of additional complications that would require thousands of dollars of treatment. Thousands of dollars that I didn’t have.

So, because I couldn’t afford the treatment, and if I didn’t have him treated he would have died in agony over the next twelve hours, I had to make the decision to have him put down. He had to die because I didn’t have the money to take care of him properly. Because the vet care was too expensive and I’m too poor.

And I hate myself for it. I will never forgive myself. He was sick, but there WAS something that COULD have been done, if the money had been there. And instead I had to kill him.

The worst part is that I’m moving in a couple of months and he was supposed to go with me. He was 12 years old, and would have been living in a real, big house for the first time in his life, instead of a series of shitty apartments. He would have had access to no less than five couches and two comfy chairs, and at least four beds to sleep on. Squishy carpet to sprawl out on on the floor. Huge, huge windows out in the country to watch the birds and bugs and squirrels through. I told him he was going to love it there, that he was going to be so happy there, that it was going to be a really great place to spend his twilight years.

Instead he fucking died, and I’m going to move to that perfect house without him.

.....

I’m not in a good place right now. I was already teetering on the edge with my mental and emotional health lately, but this has pretty much shoved me right over. I’ve been crying pretty much constantly for the last 48 hours.

Loki was the cat that was always in my lap, always cuddled into my side while I was on the computer or watching a movie. He was so well behaved and had such good manners. He always met me at the door when I came home. He was quiet and polite. He didn’t beg for treats unless you had potato chips or crackers-- he adored crunchy stuff.

I loved him with everything I had and now it feels like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest.

I want my kitty back. I want him to cuddle me while I watch TV and beg for chips. I want him to knead on my side, even though he always picked the most uncomfortable spot to do it. I want him to sleep on the pillow next to me at night, or in the laundry basket like he always did.

Instead I’ll be burying him at Grandma’s place next week.