tavie.com

Kirsten IMs me this morning and the first thing she says is, "Rosie needs to see a vet."

No no no no no no no... "What's wrong??? Is she okay???"

"Well, sort of. She isn't eating, she is just lying around, not moving much. She's depressed. I think she's sick. She is old."

Nonononononononono. She had been worrying me lately. She's dropped a lot of weight recently, and now you can feel all her bones when you pet her. She seems to be panting at rest. She's fifteen years old.

"Can it wait until mom comes home?"

"I don't know, I guess so."

(It will have to, I haven't the means to get her to a vet right now, and I'm still in Jersey besides.)

Oh god oh god oh god no. I've been avoiding thinking about this since I was seven years old.

(And Lily, while still active and eating, still has that cold.)

I can't take it, I really can't. Everyone else may get old, but not my Rosie.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:23 PM | shower me with attention