Goodnight, dear love. I promise I'll never forget you

It should be me, not him ~ he's never hurt another human being.

Bwca fell sick on March 17. He quit playing. He was lethargic, then he stopped eating and drinking and began to vomit bile. He hid under the bed and slept. No more meows. No more what I used to call "my whiny boy." I took him out of town to the Vet on March 19. He was poked, prodded, had blood drawn, x-rays. The results of all these tests were inconclusive. The x-rays showed a "mass that shouldn't be there," said the Vet, troubled. They kept him overnight to re-hydrate him and, supposedly, do more testing.

It made me ill to leave him so far away, probably afraid and alone. Damn this.

The next day I called and was told I could pick him up the following afternoon. I did so.
Of course I wanted to know the diagnosis. "Well, we don't really know. It could have something to do with his pancreas." But what about the mass on the x-ray you were so concerned about? "Well, we're just going to consider that a fatty deposit, until we find out otherwise." I was so relieved that I didn't think to wonder: otherwise? You mean, when he dies? WTF! But I paid the $322.62 and brought him back home, where he belongs. Research on the web informed me that the Vet should have performed a "fine needle aspirate w/biopsy," to rule out cancer. But Vets mostly treat dogs (about 80%); cats, I reckon, are considered a bit more "disposable." But not, by God, to me.

All they really did was give him a shot of penicillin. He seemed to be okay for several days; back to his old self. Then, less than a week later, he began to heave and vomit bile again. Would not play, would not eat nor drink. Slept all day long. With no money left and, in a quandary as to what to do, I could do nothing. It was now a matter of faith. I've spent all this time with him, comforting him, watching him closely, keeping him close and as healthy as I could. He slowly seemed to come out of it again, although he would not play at all. But he finally began to meow and insisted on being wherever I was. He'd sleep the night through with me.

I hadn't seen him eat anything until today. He immediately vomited it back up, although he's drinking water. He's up and about, although no interest in playing. Still sleeps most of the time. Talks to me again, but quieter. He's lost a lot of weight, but does not appear to be in any pain.

As I take a few moments to type this, Bwca is under the covers on the bed, sleeping again. I don't know what to do, but what I'm doing now. He's my best friend. I know that might sound silly to some of you, but that's the way it is.

Since March 17th, all I've done is take care of him. I'll continue to do so. I can't lose him. At the moment, nothing else matters. I'm wicked tired, but I can take it. I hope Bwca can too. I've lived my life; he's just starting his. I'd much rather it be me than him. I mean that with all my heart.