Like, the kind of mad where it would be easy to blow up at someone and start this nasty grudge thing, slinging litter box contents at each other online, where other people get in the crosshairs. But I'm going to do the petty thing instead, and blog about it, where the instigator has no real recourse because I've already blocked them on Facebook and will delete any comment they make here. Because I'm mature like that.
I'm probably going to use things off the Bad Word List. Fair warning.
To paraphrase... "You knew Buddah was sick and that's why you released Interview With a Pest when you did. That's unfair. Because if you didn't know he was sick then you didn't give him enough time before you had him put down, and either way, that makes you awful."
No, we did not know Buddah was sick when the decision was made to release IWAP ahead of schedule. The biggest reason for that push was because everyone feared *I* was going to die soon; we had no idea about Buddah. We were all counting on him being here for years after me. What would have been unfair, I think, was publishing it when planned, in December, had I died before then. That seems like rubbing salt in a whole bunch of wounds.
We had fewer than ten days with Buddah from the day we learned how ill he was until the day we let him go. We had less than two weeks from the day he started throwing up and when he stopped eating. At the beginning of 2020, he weighed 16 pounds. In August, he weighed 13. The day he was diagnosed, he weighed 12. The day he died, he weighed under 10.
Could we have given him a few more days? Maybe. But at what cost to him? He couldn't make himself eat, even on an appetite stimulant, and even though he clearly wanted to.
Buddah was starving to death. How much more time should we have let that go on? Days? Weeks?
He was stumbling. He fell from the back of the recliner and was lucky he didn't break his neck. He sat on the floor and we could see his entire upper body pulse with each heart beat.
Did he deserve to go through more days of starving and feeling horrible, just so we could keep him?
We wanted him to live, but the awful reality is that he was never going to get better, and he was starving. The past few days I've been wandering around the house, looking for him, smelling him, peeing all over everything because I cannot find what I'm looking for. I'm super old, too, so half the time I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, just that it should be there and it's not.
My people are broken, so how fucking DARE you suggest they let him go too soon.
And to the twatwaffle who suggested to the Woman that she wanted me to die instead of him...go crawl up inside your own ass.
She didn't want either of us to die. The reality is that I probably will soon and she hasn't even come to terms with that, so your suggestion was about as hurtful as it gets, and I am having a very hard time not wishing horrible things happen to you.
I accept that those kind of thoughts sip through brains--did they do enough, could they have done more--but holy pope on a pogo stick, those are the thoughts you don't say out loud to the ones who are hurting. Keep that shit to yourself, and let us grieve.