Artoo is still alive, but obviously weaker. Still no signs of pain, still wanting to be petted, and still jumping onto furniture, but not eating, and when you pet him, you can feel the bones under the skin. He sleeps most of the time now, with only occasional periods of wandering. I don't think he has long now, but takayla's suggestion of letting him die here is really the best. If he shows signs of pain, we'll put him to sleep, but he seems rather happy. His eyes are still bright and alert, and he still keeps exploring, drinking water, and snooping in the cabinets. The other animals know he's dying, of course, and they are respectful of that, and give him distance (except for Widget, who is convinced Artoo's butt is worthy of attention). Cosmo, who will now be the dominant (and only) male cat, even took the time to clean Artoo yesterday, which I thought was nice. But since Artoo hasn't cleaned himself, his whites are turning yellow, and his fur kind of sticks up all over, just like it did when he was a kitten. When he does pass the Rainbow Bridge, I will be very sad, but I have accepted it now. I am glad I have some final times with him, and I can give him all the thanks for what a great cat he was, and if my vote in the afterlife means anything, I give him an A.
I don't plan on getting another cat or kitten. I have thought for a while that 4 was my limit, and I plan to work my way down to 2 as time passes, but I am convinced that I will always have at least 2. But I have always thought Bastet was more of a social worker in the Goddess aspect, so she may have other plans; I don't think I have ever chosen cats, they choose me. So I wouldn't be surprised if some kitten shows up at some point, but there better be a damn good reason to accept it into my house. All my cats have had good reasons, although the vote is still shaky with Thisby. I think Thisby was a reminder that I must never take a kitten into my house unseen.
My foot hurts less and less daily, and the swelling has gone down to almost nothing. The skin left from the swelling has left behind a baggy reminder that I am getting old, and my skin is not as elastic as it once was. My biggest problem now is that my foot is very stiff, which gives me an odd splayed gait. I have to walk down stairs sideways like a crab, for instance. This weekend, I am "on call" at work, which means I have to stay within 5 minutes of an Internet connection; i.e., home. I will try and "exercise" it by doing the housework that has been piling up everywhere. I also have to do finances, more bathroom demolition, and assorted other tasks. I will take it easy, but I want to walk normally again, and I think this is the point where using it on a regular basis will help get its strength back.
Sally Brown said once in a Peanuts strip that the brachiosaurus probably died from coughing. I don't think what I have is bronchitis anymore, but I don't think it's pneumonia, either. Wednesday, I was so sick, I thought, "That's it, I am headed for the hospital again, where I shall catch an even worse infection, and die..." and then probably more dramatic crap. I stayed in the guest room under a ton of blankets and a heating pad, did some self-healing workings, and slept. When I awoke, snow prevented me from leaving for work, so I typed in a journal entry and worked from a laptop in bed at home. I feel about 50% better than I did Wednesday night, but when I breathe, it is very obvious of the deep infection ratting in there, and if I talk, I quickly lose my voice. My sinuses are clogged, what I blow or cough up is technocolor, I have a slight fever, and exposure to cold air snaps an asthma attack.
I think after all this is over, and it better fucking end, I am going to throw a party for no good reason. And maybe get a tattoo. Who's with me?