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2007-11-17 || 1:07 p.m. || very much like edie beale || every once in a while i am convinced laverne has reached her final days. i'm in the throes of it now. she's especially skinny and unkempt; she's been sneezing in sequences of five. she (or at least i think it's she, seeing as the other cat is healthy and of a sunny disposition) has been peeing all over th apartment, at first on a pile of my clothes, which i took personally, but now on the kitchen floor, on the bathroom floor, to make me think it's simply incontinence rather than a cat version of fuck you. i indulge her in people food and lying in the crook of my bended knees under the covers at night, taking care not to move so that she is not bothered. i choose her over michael when affection is needed. i stop when i pass her to stare into her eyes, scratch her back, feel the vertebrae of her tail pop as i pull it between my fingers. i won't take her to the vet and feel alternately guilty and certain she would much rather fade away in this apartment than reach an abrupt end while releasing her bowels in fear on a metal table. when i am sitting here typing she jumps up on my lap and curls herself into an impossibly tiny ball. she rests her chin on my arm and i ask her what i should do. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |