Stacy Horn

Some day in the next few weeks, in a more substantial way, I will thank everyone for all your support. Right now, I’m just sitting the couch watching the news, it’s all I can manage.

Today is as bad as yesterday, just a different kind of bad. Now it’s the undramatic ache of life without the creature I loved so much, enjoyed having around so much. He’s gone. Gone. We would have had a million different interactions between waking up this morning and now, and all of that is over.

I just sit here, unhappy, going over what I could have done better, opportunities lost. I’m remembering feeling so happy on Sunday, after taking Buddy to the oncologist. I had hope. I’m remembering the last time I felt over-joyed, when Buddy was eating with gusto.

It feels so much worse than the last time I lost a cat. Do we just get less resilient as we get older, or is it me?

I feel bad when people tell me someday I will just remember the good times. Because when I do that about Beams and Veets, for instance, I just feel sad and miss them. The sadness doesn’t hurt as much, but for me, it’s not like someday I will be okay about this. (Did I already post about this? Am I repeating myself now?)

I tortured myself for hours last night. Buddy had come to me yesterday morning around 5:30 for pets and to curl up. It was out of the blue because he has been hiding out and staying to himself (which helped confirm that it was time). I pet him but I hadn’t slept in days and I fell back asleep. It was my last chance, basically and I felt like I wasn’t there for him. I let him down.

Then, I couldn’t tell if he wanted me around him yesterday morning, he was back to hiding out. So I sat with him for some of the time, and some of the time not. Now I’m feeling like I should have stayed with him, talked to him, etc., etc., etc. That was also my last chance, my last morning with him.

I thought I might feel better posting about this, but now I just feel insane.

PS: I really really appreciate your comments, but I know that sometimes it’s hard to come up with things to say. What is there to say? It sucks. So please don’t feel compelled to comment. I understand.

I was feeding Buddy every 2 – 3 hours this last week. He preferred to hide out in the bedroom, but it was too hard and traumatic getting him out of his hiding spot each time, so I made him this hiding annex in the living room.

I’m in agony. I don’t know how to occupy this apartment, or my life. There’s a horrible Buddy-vacuum and it’s so painful being in it. I’m going to wait a few months, and then make a tribute movie to Buddy. I don’t think it would be a good idea to start working on it right away.

For now, the picture below is of Buddy resting after one of his favorite past times, eating books. Also, here are links to a movie of him beginning to destroy a book, and another, causing general desk destruction.

I sang to him this morning, before the vet came. The cats actually never really seemed to like my singing so I picked a small section from Randall Thompson’s The Peaceable Kingdom, and I sang it very quietly. But the words say exactly what I want to be true. It’s from the bible (but adapted by Thompson).

For ye shall go out with joy, joy, joy,
and be led forth with peace:
the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing,
and all the trees of the fields shall clap their hands.

That’s what I used to tell him (and Finney), that all the world and the universe celebrate and rejoice in their existence. Goodbye my little Buddy. I will love you forever.

He was always there. This is why losing pets is in some ways worse than losing people. They are much more present, weirdly. (Please note I am saying “in some ways.” Losing people is harder in other ways, of course.) Also, you feel so responsible for them. Oh God. Oh God. Another scar on my heart. I don’t believe life will ever be as good without him in it. (Yes, I know how that sounds. I know I will be happy again, but there will always be a hole, where he once was.)

I took this on November 17, 2011. I’m so grateful iPhoto keeps track of dates.

Unfortunately, I’m not seeing any improvement from the new chemo. He’s gaining a little weight, but that’s because I’m feeding him every 2 or 3 hours. The oncologist said it might take three days to see a difference, and that’s tomorrow.

I’m hoping against hope to see a change when I wake up tomorrow, but, well, his prognosis was never good. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. Ugh. I forced myself to go swimming, I haven’t left the house in days except to take Buddy to the vet. I had to stop after 25 minutes though. Obviously I was taking no pleasure in it. I feel better though, in spite of all the heart ache. Exercise really does make a difference.

This was my view on 11th Street thirty years ago, except I was looking across from the third floor and this is shot at street level. The family on the third floor had a rope swing in the middle of the living room and I remember seeing a little girl happily swinging back and forth. She also took ballet lessons and sometimes danced around in the same spot. Wow, so that little kid is in her thirties now. I wonder if she grew up to be a dancer.

Because Buddy is in such bad shape, instead of going for something really heavy duty right now, the oncologist started Buddy on a stronger form of the same chemo he’s already on. If he does well, we’ll move up to a more powerful drug.

I should start seeing results in three days. Because it’s a similar chemo it might not do anything. If it doesn’t then that’s that, because the oncologist doesn’t think he can tolerate anything else at this point. The oncologist also wanted to hospitalize Buddy for two days to give him iv fluids, and I passed on that and will instead give him sub-q fluids at home. It’s not ideal, but hospitalizing him was another level of misery I couldn’t heap on Buddy and the doctor said he couldn’t guarantee it would make much of a difference. Buddy also needs a lot of meds and he has to eat whether he wants to or not, but I can manage all of that.

I’m glad I’m doing this. I still feel sick and stressed, but I also have just a slight feeling of being at peace, from making sure I’m doing what I can without going overboard and causing him more distress. So far nothing I’m doing is overly hard on him, except for the vet trip, which is not horrible.

A nice young man feeding birds across the street from The Kills book signing yesterday.