3pm, but I'm already bawling

That's when I go to the vet to visit with little Reese and say the words that no pet owner ever wants to say. I've got to call it enough and how can it possibly ever be enough? I am trying to be realistic, to listen to my gut, to imagine the week she has had and how it cannot possibly go on and on like this indefinitely. The vet seems to think that she seems to want to get better, she's got a fighting spirit, but she won't eat. The only alternative is a feeding tube and I am not willing to do that. Without the feeding tube she won't eat and since I feel so strongly, what is it all for?

Thanks for all the kind words, the emails, the @mccashew messages. It's going to be a very rough afternoon and I am so thankful that my husband will be home tonight, that I won't feel so all alone in the house. We, our family, will never be the same. Baby Mac will never get to meet her royal highness. Caroline won't mimic us yelling at the cat to stop pulling up the carpet already! Kitty won't say "rawr!" anymore, but she will live on in all our hearts, our memories and in the background of countless photos. It's appropriate that she is in so many because in her life she was always standing back from the action, taking it all in, waiting for a warm lap to open up, for me to tap my chest and tell her "it's ok, cmon up."

It's ok Reese, go on up.
Mother's Day, 2007


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