Cheers to 4 precious years
I’m a compulsive note-taker. So my house is littered with notepads and scraps of paper with stuff I figure I’ll need eventually.
I’m also a compulsive digital note-taker.
I finally got around to deleting notes I’d taken from my old job and from Cocoa’s doctors.
Found it interesting that, shortly after I got her in 2020, they said she had thyroid issues and kidney disease.
The docs hopped on the thyroid stuff. Though the same docs denied me a refill unless I brought her in (when corona was resurgent). And I said fuck you and your company.
The next vet I called gave me a prescription just for asking. They said bring the baby in when you can; we aren’t going to deny her something she needs.
But I forgot about all the kidney disease stuff till I saw it in black and white.
So my baby had that untreated the whole time.
I mean, the fact that I got four years with her is just crazy. If it was as bad as they said, the prognosis is really only about 35 days.
I remember telling Mom that I gave Cocoa an extra year thanks to the new vet. And Mom had said, you gave her four years. The entire four years she was yours.
Now, I get it. She was right. Maybe I loved that little girl back to life for as long as she could hold on to it.
I still regret taking on Bella and Magic, though. I figured if Cocoa was a baby and I’d have her forever, why not have three.
Now I look at these loafs — and I love them — but damn I was going to go away this weekend but I figured in the end, nah don’t leave these dopes.
I love them and will miss them when they are gone. But they are 5 and 4. And as I feel the quicksands of time are reeling me in faster than I’d like, I don’t want to miss another minute of living than I have to.