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R.I.P. CLEO the Cat...


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Yup...its done for those who care and for those who dont,eat me. Kindey failure and toxic blood is the end result. She went to kitty heaven today at 10:23 AM via the needle w/my signature and I have a bill for 2400.00$$ I am gonna bury her in Wakefield tomorrow AM. WAY too down to go to NERO tonite but will see y'all tomorrow. Have a cold one on me and smoke a phatty! Tears of a clown,pudds.

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Man, I'm so sorry to hear that. but as it was said (yesterday I think) by.... maybe Scarlet(??) at least Cleo's not suffering anymore. And on the same note, you're not suffering along with her either.

Sit back and have a quiet night tonight, sounds like you need it.

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From the essay at the core of Harlan Ellison's story, "The Deathbird"


Originally written by Harlan Ellison:

At first they thought it was just old age...that they could pull him through. But finally they took X-rays and saw the cancer had taken hold in his stomach and liver.

I put off the day as much as I could. Somehow I just couldn't conceive of a world that didn't have him in it. But yesterday I went to the vet's office and signed the euthanasia papers.

"I'd like to spend a little time with him, before," I said.

They brought him in and put him on the stainless steel examination table. He had grown so thin. He'd always had a pot-belly and it was gone. The muscles in his hind legs were weak, flaccid. He came to me and put his head into the hollow of my armpit. He was trembling violently. I lifted his head and he looked at me with the comic little face I'd always thought made him looks like Lawrence Talbot, the Wolf Man. He knew. Sharp as hell right up to the end, hey old friend? He knew, and he was scared. He trembled all the way down to his spiderweb legs. This bouncing ball of hair that, when lying on a dark carpet, could be taken for a sheepskin rug, with no way to tell at which end head and which end tail. So thin. Shaking, knowing what was going to happen to him. But still a puppy.

I cried and my eyes closed as my nose swelled with the crying, and he buried his head in my arms because he hadn't done much crying at one another. I was ashamed of myself not to be taking it as well as he was.

to, pup, because you're in pain and you can't eat. I
to." But he didn't want to know that.

The vet came in, then. He was a nice guy and he asked me if I wanted to go away and just let it be done.

Then Ahbhu came up out of there and
at me.

Ahbhu looked at me and I know he was just a dog, but if could have spoken with human tongue he could not have said more eloguently than he did with a look,
don't leave me with strangers

So I held him as they laid him down and the vet slipped the lanyard up around his right foreleg and drew it tight to bulge the vein, and I held his head and he turned it away from me as the needle went in. It was impossible to tell the moment he passed over from life to death. He simple laid his head on my hand, his eyes fluttered shut and he was gone.

I wrapped him in a sheet with the help of the vet and I drove home with Ahbhu on the seat beside me, just the way we had come home eleven years before. I took him out in the backyard and began digging his grave. I dug for hours, crying and mumbling to myself, talking to him in the sheet. It was a very neat, rectangular grave with smooth sides and all the loose dirt scooped out by hand.

I laid him down in the hole and he was so tiny in there for a dog who had seemed to be so big in life, so furry, so funny. And I covered him over and when the hole was packed full of dirt I replaced the neat divot of grass I'd scalped off at the start. And that was all.

But I couldn't send him to strangers.

One of Ellison's big themes in his work is that we are not alone; we have common experiences, common ambitions, common failings, common fears. You are not alone, Puddles.

May the four winds blow Cleo safely home.



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Sorry about you loss Puddles ( what's your real name anyway? ). I remember driving my 19 year cat Carlos to the vet for the last time. Devastated would be an understated description of the way I felt that day. You gave your cat a fighting chance and you should be admired for that. Keep you chin up and try to catch nero if you can. You'll feel better even if you think you won't.

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Sorry Pud!

Our doggie Mico was just put recently because of Kidney probs. It was so sad to see him unable to walk. He would get excited to see everyone come into my mother's house, but he could get off of his little bed to greet you.

Definately go out to nero tonight. I'm sure they can cheer you up with the super grooves.

Don't forget all of the skanks that will be there buying you drinks [Wink]

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So sorry to hear this puddles, you obviously did everything you could, beyond what many would probably do, that's love, that's awesome regardless of the passing. Feel at ease, cat heavens full of unlimited salmon snacks, cat nip balls, large cushions and string. Tonnes and tonnes of string.

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