The Internet is Terrible and How I Boiled My Own Hand

Like any idiot human, I Google things when I’m scared. No matter how many times I tell friends and family not to Google things, I always do it when I panic.

So naturally I’m looking up tons of information about all the possible types of cancer that my poor cat might have. It’s helpful but also VERY NOT AT ALL.

Helpful: learning more about why this cancer isn’t treatable and why putting your buddy through a bunch of treatment is cruel and unnecessary.

Unhelpful: reading other cat owners in forums who are keeping their pets alive while they’re obviously in pain and still wondering “is it time?” It’s BEEN damn time, asshole.

Look, I get it, we love these creatures. More than other humans more often than not. It’s the worst thing in the world to hand over the being you love the most in the world to some vet you barely know and say, “yep, pull the trigger.” No matter what, you’re going to feel guilty. You’re going to feel like you’re throwing them away and wonder if they’ll ever know that you were doing it because you loved them so much it hurt.

But COME. ON. One person was force-feeding her cat with a syringe and the cat was still refusing food, was crying, hiding, and she still wondered if it was time to let go.

So that part: not helpful. It made me angry. I guess in a way it was helpful, because it pushed my feelings of guilt WAY down. I will never let Tag get to that point. Ever. Even though I’m terrified of an empty home and cannot imagine a world without my best buddy in it. [Five minute break for crying.]

[Also terrible about the internet? Watching a trailer you’ve been anticipating (The Dark Tower), only to see that a good portion of the comments below the video are racist. White men are so fragile.]

You are probably still wondering how I managed to boil my own hand.

Easy.

I went to get a cup of tea and stumbled over my own two damn feet on the way back to my desk. Holy ow. It still stings.

I sent a message to a friend saying it’s as pink as a ham, to which she said not to tell her ham-loving, amazing chef husband. To which I said I’d totally eat my own hand if he cooked it. True statement. The good news is that I don’t think it’ll blister. The bad news is that I’m a giant klutz.

Considering all that has been going on with Tag, my mood has been okay. I think it’s in part to the massive amount of support I unexpectedly received from friends and family via a GoFundMe I started for him. I’ve put a lot of funds towards both cats’ health the past two years, and I found myself overwhelmed and that’s even with pet insurance. I asked, even though it always feels wrong, for some help and people just kept giving. I honestly don’t believe I deserve such love. I mean, I try to be a good friend but I’m not perfect. Who am I kidding? It’s Tag. He’s been the cutest and sweetest to everybody he meets. I take no credit.

Here it is. I ask for no further donations since it’s well above my initial goal, but just feel the love: Tag’s Final Days

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