Puss

He's fallen sick over the weekend and we've sent him to the vet. While I'm freaking out about the vet bills, Daniel is freaking out about puss. I'm letting money get in the way of my emotions because I know I will miss this cat when he leaves us

But after 6 days he's been there I'm starting to see that money isn't the most important thing to have

This is not the first time he's been critically ill but it is the worst. His liver enzymes are critically high; bags of saline, antibiotics, ultrasounds and a shot of Cortisone later and puss is not getting any better. We've made the tough decision to put him to sleep.

I hate the fact I get ritualistic about everything. I want puss to get to play around in our home for a little while longer. I want him to eat his favourite food. Sleep in his favourite house. Spend the night curled next to me while I'm in bed, nudging me all night. I want him to catch his spiders, claw the carpet, do his little meow to say 'hi', and climb up onto my chest when I'm having dinner just to rub his cheek against my chin. I want him to do all that before he goes

But time is running out; he's rapidly deteriorating and I sincerely hope not in too much pain. I don't want the last person he sees to be the vet; I want it to be me and Daniel. I want to have a chance to say goodbye. I want him to know we love him very much. I want it to be perfect.

And in the middle of these idealistic and selfishly thought-out scenarios I see myself unable to accept him leaving. Death has always been a big issue for me, but tonight I need to be strong, to hold Daniel's hand in mine and go in with a strong heart because Pusscat must never know that I'm weak, emotional and afraid; all the qualities that even he as a cat has never had.