Gaki

Gaki today will breath his last on earth. I feel terrible for him. He wants to live, but his eyes, although now clear of infection, are bloody and inflamed. When he sleeps, the fluid mixes with blood on the edges and dries, driving him nuts in the morning trying to open them. He frantically claws at his eyes, growling and flailing out, striking at enemies in his pain and frustration. I wish he could fight them with his claws, because he's a great fighter and could vanguish an enemy of flesh, wrestle it snarling to the ground, he could. If his enemy were only not some virus causing him such pain, and cheating him of his hope for a life and happiness. He has become ultra aggressive in his misery.

I'd let him go through the pain if I felt he'd make it through and recover. It's ok to have pain, if there's a light at the end. But not if there isn't. He's going to the vet today and if the vet says there's no light waiting for him at the end of this, then there's no sense to it.

I could take him in to Heartland, have him euthanized there, but there would be no vet there to confirm there is no hope of his recovery, and the guilt would eat me alive. I know that about myself. Then I fear he'd have to wait, sitting in a carrier, knowing he was going to die if I took him back there.

He got better for a few days and in the last two days has gone downhill badly.

I keep his eyes lubed with antibiotic ointment and washed, but there is no relief to the conjunctivitis.

I'm still sick, coughing now, as the trickle down hits the back of my throat. Going stir crazy I am, at home alone here, trying to get better.

The backyard neighbors were raising hell last night, had rap music blasting so loud the base made my walls tremble. I finally yelled at them fervantly. I was trying to sit out in my backyard, with this short respite from pouring rain and relax. I couldn't do that with music so loud it was pounding in my stuffed up brain. I hate rap. At least most of it.

I yelled "Please, have some respect for your neighbors, turn it down." I think it was about half hour later they finally turned it down. I was happy.

I asked my cats "Am I becoming a total bitch?" I might be.

Then I thought "those people haven't ever cared how they affect neighbors."

There was the puppy, tied ruthlessly to the tree, whining and howling day and night forever, keeping so many people awake.

The months of the barking dog were followed by a summer of out of control toddlers, screaming, swearing, tearing things apart. That was last summer. I rounded up a bunch of their toys and balls they had hurled over the fence and offered them back to the kids, who took them back, then one of them took a ball and hurled it right back at my face. "Ok," I thought, "so that's how it's going to be." I dread this summer.

I told my cats last night, "I need to get out of here. I really need to get out of here." In the last week, I've called several places listed for rent in rural Benton county. So far, no luck on finding somewhere I can both afford and that allows cats, but I feel good that I am at least making the move to look. I did let my brother, my landlord, know.

Being sick, I've had too much time to, for one example, cruise craigslist. That is not a happy camper hobby, if you like animals. It can drive me nuts to see the way people are giving away and getting rid of animals and their reasons. Craigslist is where you find all the unfixed unwanted kittens and cats. It's like a waking nightmare, to read the pet posts. I need to stay off that site.