Sick Kitty

I just found out yesterday that my fuzzy companion is a very sick kitty. She has been diagnosed with diabetes, a bladder infection, and possibly renal failure. I can't express how sad and frightened this makes me feel. When it's happening to a human, you can talk to them, ask them about their feelings, explain what you're doing and why. You can't do that with an animal. Victoria doesn't understand why I had to leave her at the vets last night, or why they keep poking her with sharp, pointy needles, and telling her what a good kitty she is for not scratching their faces off for it. I'm scared for her, and I'm scared for myself.

Victoria has been my constant companion for seven years. She's the only thing that I come home to every night. She's my best friend, my fuzzy baby. She's been a source of endless love, entertainment, and frustration since I brought her home from the Anti-Cruelty Society. I can't stand the thought of her being miserable. I've been told that she can lead a normal life with the diabetes. So as long as they can guarantee me that, I'll take care of her, even though my finances are strapped to the hilt as it is.

However, the awful truth is that if she has renal failure, I'm not going to be able to afford treating her for that as well. Nor will I feel right about putting her through two extensive treatments that will diminish the quality of her life just so that I can keep her with me. I will have to make the decision to put my angel down. The mere thought is devastating. The house was so empty and quiet last night without her here. I can't imagine what it would be like if that were permanent. I'm hoping that I don't have to find out. At least, not yet anyway.