18 nov 2014

the word that generally prompts a discussion about sex, but it means so much more than that. intimacy is a degree of closeness. intimacy is wiping up bodily fluids. 

mango is sick. he's had intestinal lymphoma since april. about a week ago i noticed a decline in his appetite. on saturday i'd had enough and stepped out into my new neighborhood to try a new vet. after the dance of phone calls and faxes netted mango's records in the hands of a new doctor, i voiced my concerns.

my new vet: he is an expert in bedside manner and understands where i'm at. more importantly, he understands where i am at with mango. knowing that my cat's prognosis is terminal is something that's been in the back of my mind since the diagnosis. however, now it's getting real: weight loss. a liver panel that's off the charts. untouched cat food. morning/evening pill routines. 

there's more intimacy. more bodily fluids. it there's anything that draws attention to how much i care for mango, it's the willingness and concern over every spot of vomit that ends up on my floor. humorous as that may sound, i mean it with absolute seriousness. 

i abhor this part in life--the death part. more importantly, i hate the decline that precedes death in all living creatures. for pets, there's a widely accepted path where euthanasia enters into the picture. it's almost expected. i hate that this is the next step that looms over my head: deciding when the quality of life has declined as far as i will allow it. i interpret behavior--there's no way for mango to voice when he's had enough of the pills and the vomit. 

until i read that message from him, i'll pet and caress his soft fur (and take some video--thanks, e), enjoy him snuggling with me at bedtime, gladly bow my head for numerous bunting episodes, and make sure the shades are open so he can bask in the morning sunlight.