When I was a young man, my father made the hard decisions. While I was away at college, it was his task to take care of the dogs, and finally to take them to the vet when they were too sick to enjoy their senior doggyhood. It was his compassion that allowed him the strength.
I have four cats; three female and one male. Three are a legacy from my ex, and one from a friend. One is a hyperthyroid(ism) survivor, she putts around the house just fine these days, although I watch her for kidney disease. One has asthma and gets kitty steroids. And my guy, the one tom... has cancer. He's been treated with radiation therapy; but we all know how this must end. As long as the quality of his life is there... I'll fight for him. When it's not; then the decision that I must face will become inescapable.
I dread that day.
Tonight I was reminded that day may come soon. This summer, I just wanted to have him make it to Christmas. Now, (greedy?) I just want him to have his summer.
Tonight I read an article (from the LA Times) about the plight of old folk and the poor in the subway in Russia, and our inability to act.
I hope when the time comes, that I have the courage.
He's depending on me.
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