once a favorite poster of mine, he's been pretty insufferable lately.
I can't believe you said he was a favorite poster of yours...such low expectations lol.
I can't believe you said he was a favorite poster of yours...such low expectations lol.
You're in my top 5I wonder how many people consider me one of their favorite posters...
Petition to ban everyone who is liked more than me so I can be the favorite.
Man, I'm really sorry to hear this. You've always been supportive of others when it comes to animals. That cat looks a lot like my Amira, whom I posted about a year and a half ago when she needed to have a tube stuck in her neck for me to feed her through. She's doing wonderfully now btw, and is even kinda chubby but I don't have the heart to restrict her food in any way and just pamper her at every turn. I think it was even you that pointed out how the marking on her back looked like a ballsack.
Man, I'm really sorry to hear this. You've always been supportive of others when it comes to animals. That cat looks a lot like my Amira, whom I posted about a year and a half ago when she needed to have a tube stuck in her neck for me to feed her through. She's doing wonderfully now btw, and is even kinda chubby but I don't have the heart to restrict her food in any way and just pamper her at every turn. I think it was even you that pointed out how the marking on her back looked like a ballsack.
My sympathies, and I hope you find another one just as awesome soon.
Her death has genuinely been one of the worst experiences of my entire life. Given some of the fucked up shit that has happened to me I never thought I'd say that about a damn pet dying but here we are, first world problems. I was already an emotional cripple that couldn't cope with loss and I didn't want to get attached to another pet in the first place, but we ended up attached at the hip. I have trouble falling asleep because I'm so used to her sleeping on me and I'll wake up in the middle of the night and start to wonder where she is before I remember she's dead. And then there's the guilt because it turns by the time we first took her to the vet (about 2 weeks before she died) it was already too late because she would have needed way more time to differentiate between asthma and congestive heart failure, and the heart failure was too advanced for her to have that much time. I didn't miss the major symptom that presented early enough that she could have had a chance at treatment, I blew it off out of ignorance because a cat coughing looks and sounds like a human blowing a snot rocket so I didn't realize how serious it was. And on the morning of the day she died, I woke up and went to check on her and she was lying on her side mouth open panting because her lungs were full of liquid due to her not responding to the lasix injection she'd gotten two days previously, and while I tried to comfort her, she would periodically try to stand up and frantically lurch around squeaking, not knowing why she could barely breath with this desperate look on her face wondering why her human wasn't making it better.
I spend a significant chunk of every day contemplating going out next to the little brick mausoleum I built for her, dousing myself in gasoline, and lighting a match.
Her death has genuinely been one of the worst experiences of my entire life. Given some of the fucked up shit that has happened to me I never thought I'd say that about a damn pet dying but here we are, first world problems. I was already an emotional cripple that couldn't cope with loss and I didn't want to get attached to another pet in the first place, but we ended up attached at the hip. I have trouble falling asleep because I'm so used to her sleeping on me and I'll wake up in the middle of the night and start to wonder where she is before I remember she's dead. And then there's the guilt because it turns by the time we first took her to the vet (about 2 weeks before she died) it was already too late because she would have needed way more time to differentiate between asthma and congestive heart failure, and the heart failure was too advanced for her to have that much time. I didn't miss the major symptom that presented early enough that she could have had a chance at treatment, I blew it off out of ignorance because a cat coughing looks and sounds like a human blowing a snot rocket so I didn't realize how serious it was. And on the morning of the day she died, I woke up and went to check on her and she was lying on her side mouth open panting because her lungs were full of liquid due to her not responding to the lasix injection she'd gotten two days previously, and while I tried to comfort her, she would periodically try to stand up and frantically lurch around squeaking, not knowing why she could barely breath with this desperate look on her face wondering why her human wasn't making it better.
I spend a significant chunk of every day contemplating going out next to the little brick mausoleum I built for her, dousing myself in gasoline, and lighting a match.