Wattys 2019 Poetry Winner |
#1 Epic Poem January 2020 |
#1 Epic Poem June 2019 |
#1 Americana Nov 2019 & Feb 2021 | Meowza!
#1 Animal Fiction Mar 2021 |
#1 Animal Fiction August 2021
Seven cats live in Feline Society #337, along with Hooman #1 and...
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The worst part of a vet visit is when the doctor pokes me in my rump. Keen on making sure I'm not the only one miserable, I nip at him, but he just comments on how thin I've become, so I feel weaker.
Hooman #1 is very concerned when she asks the doctor what tests they could run.
Then they take me away from her, wrapped in a towel, and poke me with a needle. Blood comes out. Other fluids go in. I listen to Hooman #1, weeping behind the door.
When they bring me back to her, she sniffs, rubs her eyes, and smiles to greet me, to let me know it's okay when we know it's not.
We sit in the room awhile, Hooman #1 petting me, as I let go of my worries of Babylonians, gathering intel, shepherding hoomanity— none of these things are my burden anymore.
Now I live to consider why I am alive.
The vet returns with papers and explains my anemia. At my age, it's normal to develop cancer in the blood.
My brother, Da Loker, was also taken by cancer, but his was a tumor that led to many others.
Hooman #1 doesn't try to hide her tears from me anymore.
The vet prescribes steroids to boost my appetite and help with pain. When they no longer provide me quality life, we will say goodbye.
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