Forever Loved: Juliana
The Community Room is far too quiet today, too empty.
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Let me start by “ripping off the bandage:” we lost dear Jonathan last week. His kidney values had taken a severe turn for the worse. We started aggressive fluid therapy, which can reverse rapidly failing renal function. It can work wonders. But, there is no way to know how effective it will be without trying. […]
Nothing I could write here could possibly add to Jess’s words below. Thank you, thank you, thank you, extraordinary friend. — A.H.
Dearest Abalone, I’ve spent a week typing and deleting this post. My eyes all too frequently filling with tears, I tell myself I’ll try the next day. Between the ache of losing you and the knowledge I may have let myself get too attached, I’m filled with worries.
“We can’t lose Donna.” These are the sorts of ridiculous, unrealistic, inappropriate and painful things we say to our vet team at Tabby’s Place.
There are goodbyes so long in coming, we come to expect that they will never come. When they come, they crash through us, a tsunami of tears that tear us to ribbons.
Mid-August did not taste good at Tabby’s Place. Loss upon loss upon pummeling loss left a sour note of unfinished business.
I’m retiring a sentence-starter today. I will hereby no longer start paragraphs and puddles of words with, “Every cat is wonderful/special/incandescent etc., but then there are some…”
Our requests were not granted. Our prayers were answered. Somehow this is all true.