I don't know how to handle my grief and pain. Yesterday evening, we were actually talking about how lucky we were that our 14-year old Turkish Angora Sasha was in such amazing health. He seemed virtually identical to the day we got him 12 years ago. He was still jumping up on furniture, playful, happy, and had never been sick in any serious way.
Later that night, I began to wonder where Sasha was and found him laying in a strange spot. I looked around and noticed a few small spots of frothy, white vomit. I brought him to my room and he was almost limp. I lay with him a bit and watched him, trying to figure out what the problem could be. I noticed that he had peed himself just a little bit and cleaned his fur. My hope was that he was just sick to his stomach, but he seemed so lethargic that it deeply worried me.
After a little while, he started to open his mouth very wide and began to make short panting breaths, as if he was having trouble getting oxygen. My wife and I immediately decided to take him to the emergency hospital, though we did not how we could pay them.
They told us that there seemed to be an issue with his heart, but they could not tell us what it was without many tests. They also said that they thought he would likely die at any moment. They doubted that he would survive very long even if they did find the cause, and began demanding money up front before proceeding any further.
Looking at my poor best friend, my sense was that he was in his last moments, and we made the decision to euthanize. I could barely process what was happening and was almost unable to sign the papers. A few hours ago, my cat seemed perfectly fine and now he was about to die of a mystery illness.
I euthanized my best friend and am now sitting desolate at home. I suffer from mental illness and Sasha was truly my service cat. We spent the entire day, every day together. For years, I have told my psychiatrist that Sasha was the only thing in life that still brought me pleasure, and that I don't know how I could go on without him.
I won't elaborate here, but my life has become an unrelenting grind of suffering and death. I have seen the absolute worst side of the people around me. Strangers are constantly astonished at the string of coincidences the universe continually orchestrates to cause me pain, and they are similarly shocked that I am still alive.
But this is too much. Sasha was all I had left. I gave up hope long ago on finding peace and happiness in any conventional sense. I just wanted to have a small place to sleep at night and my cat Sasha for company. Give me that and I could go on. But now Sasha is gone and I am completely alone with nothing but unbearable pain.
Later that night, I began to wonder where Sasha was and found him laying in a strange spot. I looked around and noticed a few small spots of frothy, white vomit. I brought him to my room and he was almost limp. I lay with him a bit and watched him, trying to figure out what the problem could be. I noticed that he had peed himself just a little bit and cleaned his fur. My hope was that he was just sick to his stomach, but he seemed so lethargic that it deeply worried me.
After a little while, he started to open his mouth very wide and began to make short panting breaths, as if he was having trouble getting oxygen. My wife and I immediately decided to take him to the emergency hospital, though we did not how we could pay them.
They told us that there seemed to be an issue with his heart, but they could not tell us what it was without many tests. They also said that they thought he would likely die at any moment. They doubted that he would survive very long even if they did find the cause, and began demanding money up front before proceeding any further.
Looking at my poor best friend, my sense was that he was in his last moments, and we made the decision to euthanize. I could barely process what was happening and was almost unable to sign the papers. A few hours ago, my cat seemed perfectly fine and now he was about to die of a mystery illness.
I euthanized my best friend and am now sitting desolate at home. I suffer from mental illness and Sasha was truly my service cat. We spent the entire day, every day together. For years, I have told my psychiatrist that Sasha was the only thing in life that still brought me pleasure, and that I don't know how I could go on without him.
I won't elaborate here, but my life has become an unrelenting grind of suffering and death. I have seen the absolute worst side of the people around me. Strangers are constantly astonished at the string of coincidences the universe continually orchestrates to cause me pain, and they are similarly shocked that I am still alive.
But this is too much. Sasha was all I had left. I gave up hope long ago on finding peace and happiness in any conventional sense. I just wanted to have a small place to sleep at night and my cat Sasha for company. Give me that and I could go on. But now Sasha is gone and I am completely alone with nothing but unbearable pain.
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