Saturday

When I woke up at five, I realized that it was not on account of Coco's meows. Has she died? I felt a wave of relief that it could be over - her suffering, my vigil. I didn't look for her, though. In case she was sleeping, I didn't want to wake her and start off her crying. I just wanted to sleep. However, I was too anxious over the question, so that I got up and looked for her. She wasn't in any of the usual places. Despite her weakness, that cat has been surprising me with some frequency. I looked deeper into the house and found her in Pop's office. She wasn't sleeping but just lying there quietly, meowing a little bit when I put on the light and stood over her. She is looking bad, wasting away. I found myself wishing that my suggestion to have her euthanized today had taken hold on Pop. It seemed to me that we have now reached the stage of pure suffering. ... Later in the morning, I was glad to see that Coco is actually doing better than I reckoned. She wanted to go out. I am willing to oblige her last wishes. However, not wanting to be surprised by her again, I kept watch over her. I was confident that she was not going to outrun me in her state, but I didn't want to just leave her alone beyond a minute. We actually enjoyed some quality time together, as I even took her to the front and set her on top of the car at one point so that she could survey the scene from there, which I know she liked to do. I took my Schopenhauer outside to read as I kept an eye on her. ... She's worse this afternoon. When she comes out from behind the couch and plops back down on the floor after a few steps, I bring the water to her, as well as the little plate of canned cat food, and I lie down across from her and look at her. She barely touches the water anymore. I said, "Okay, let's see how much fight you got." I pick her up, to see how much resistance she gives clutching on to the carpet. She is still surprising me. There is still some life there. A few minutes later, I carry her to the window. She still likes to take in the sights. I notice that she has started bleeding. There is some dried blood on her paw. It's from her mouth. I'd guess that this marks the beginning of the final stage. Though, I am afraid that still might mean a couple of more days. ... At about a quarter till five, I hear Coco crying more grievously from under mother's old arcade game machine, and I see that she is bleeding more seriously. I break under the pressure. I had this happy thought that our vet might be open till five, and that if we call them, they will hold out for us to come. I tell Pop I got 40 dollars, and I plead with him to call quickly. However, I was kidding myself. They close before two o'clock on Saturday. Unlike Sammy, my Coco just cannot catch a break. Everything is set against her. Pop actually calls other places. There is a 24-hour place, but they want 140 dollars, and they just take the cat from you and you leave: it costs more if you want to be present at the euthanasia. I tell Pop not to worry about it, that I was only hoping that we might get lucky with our regular place. ... I take her out back. She is more content there anyway. Pop says I should leave her out there. I might, but I am debating whether I can leave her out there overnight. Remember, if there was one thing I was hoping to do for her, it was to spare her the added burden of being attacked by ants and such pests. I don't think she is going to die in the next few hours. If I had to bet, I'd say she would be lucky if she dies tomorrow night, perhaps well into the night, like toward Monday morning, and with her luck, she might not even get that. ... After being outside for about an hour, Coco was already being besieged by the flies. She is inside now in the big room looking out the window. I think there is still some quality of life there, but not much.