entelein | (no subject)

Tomorrow the cat named Gromit Wells will meet her Feline Maker in the Great Beyond.

Her cancer has been spreading and progressing a lot more quickly as of late, and there's nothing we can do for her, so we're having her put to sleep so that we can end her suffering, as well as our own.

It's been awful, quite frankly. The right side of her face is completely changed by the cancer, her eye is swollen shut. She is bone-thin now, sometimes stumbles when she walks. Her fur is also looser - she's been obsessively pulling at one patch of skin at her collarbone, and it is bald now. I can't help but think that's because she is feeling crappy and upset. I soothe her the best I can, when I can, doing gentle hot compresses to her face, petting her, giving her her favorite treats.

I really can't write any more than this right now, because it's fucking killing me. Fucking cat, fucking cancer, fucking guilt, fucking stupid-ass uselessness I am feeling over this living creature I was not able to help.

Fuck.