Now is your chance to pick up Indelible on Kindle for only 99¢ (£0.99, UK)!
January 30 – February 6, pick up your copy before the sale is over!
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The story is about a guy who falls in love with a girl. Typical right? Well, here’s a hint: No. Angels, Demons, Darkness vs. Light, Immortal realms, and Historical-Legendary-Mythological characters you’ll recognize.
Read it to see how it all works out for Corbin and Christine’ s romance.
September 2016 we found a lump in Furby’s lower right abdomen. The Veterinarian gave us surgical options, but when he did the chest X-ray to clear him for surgery, he found a large tumor that was already wrapped back behind his heart and lungs thereby making surgery on the tumor in his abdomen a moot point. That X-ray had to be one of the crappiest ways to show a family that their loved one is dying (not the Vet’s fault).
Furby will be 13 years old in April. I hoped to get at least 16 years out of him and his brother, Lily (yes, he is a little gender-confused and it’s okay). We’ve had them since May 2004, the month before John and I were married. They were only about 5 weeks old, not weaned properly, and our friends had found them in a beer box on the side of the road.
I know many people will be able to relate to the compassion I feel for my kitty. Other people will say, “It’s just a cat,” but pets become a part of the family when you rescue and raise them, love them and they show in so many ways that they truly love you back.
My evidence: 1) Furby jumps up onto the kitchen table after my son leaves for school every morning. He will hold my arm, wrap his paws around it and tuck his face into my hand. 2) Whenever I sing, he’ll come over from wherever he is at the time to listen and usually falls asleep as if it’s a lullaby. I’ve even found him listening outside the laundry room and my closet while the door was shut.
We have three cats – one tailored perfectly for each of us. Furby (aka Fur-shibbles) is my big boy, Lily (aka Lizard) is my husband’s sweet little parasite, and Paws (aka P-whizzle, age 3) thinks my son is his biological father.
At this point, what sucks the most is that beside the tumor in his belly, the other one we can’t see or feel in his chest cavity, and a small lump we found yesterday on his ribcage, he has a quickly growing tumor on his upper jaw. It’s been less than a month since I felt the small bump on his gums and now it is the size of a large grape and smells something awful. Somehow he manages to keep it mostly in his mouth, but I’m afraid because of its quick growth that he might end up suffocating. There is no surgical option as he may not come out of sedation. It really pisses me off that I can’t do something.
I lost my father to Alzheimer’s disease on January 2, 2016, which we knew was coming for a very long time. When he was diagnosed in 2001 I realized it would inevitably end his life.
For my kitty – we found his cancer when it was already too late to do anything and he has a few months if we’re lucky.
It just sucks to think I’ll have lost my dad slowly one year, then my cat too quickly the next. It’s not fair. But as David Bowie said in the Labyrinth, “You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is?”
Here is my explanation as to why it is not fair: My mom is allergic to… everything. So when I had pets growing up, they all lived in our covered lanai – bunnies, guinea pigs, and birds. The one exception was Belle. If any dog was ever truly evil, it was her. She was a Lhasa-Shit (our name for her as a hypoallergenic Lhasa Apso-Shitzu mix), which was fitting. She attacked every person who stepped into our house, drawing blood quite often. I went to pet her goodnight one evening and she bit off more than half of my left thumbnail. I’m lucky I didn’t try to kiss her goodnight, I’d have been missing part of my face. I can’t say I was upset when she died years later. I have a great love and respect for all animals, but that dog was a demon. Furby has been my first pet that I got as a baby, lived with and loved like he was my own little one, and have been with for more than a few years. He’s comforted me when I was sad and stayed with me when I was sick. Now, the least I can do is pay him back, spending as much time with him as I can.
He knows he’s not well. The pictures above clearly show that our other boys understand he’s not well. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, but he is sleeping a lot more. (In case you’re wondering, his chosen pillow is the orange “Pillow Pet” cat beneath Paws.)
I want him to go peacefully in his sleep. I don’t want to wait for what we feel is the right amount of pain to have him put to sleep. That is the humane thing to do if necessary, but I don’t want to watch him suffer like I watched my father suffer during Christmas and New Year’s 2015-2016.
Whether you pray or send positive thoughts, whatever your preferred method is – please send a wish for Furby to give us plenty of time with him then pass peacefully so he does not suffer.
It all comes down to Karma. As The Beatles sang: “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”