Tomorrow marks two weeks without my best little friend, my little Biscuit pal. It’s been a rough time, trying to learn to live without him.

It’s hard for me to express where I am in dealing with his loss, as it changes so much from moment to moment, hour to hour. I’ve had hours when I cannot leave my bed, and minutes of laughter tinged with sadness. I’ve enjoyed a good movie or two, and missed my friend every moment. It’s an exercise in duality, really.
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My little guy is in a very serious place right now. Since he started a new chemo called lomustine on Tuesday, he’s not been eating, has been vomiting, and has had awful diarrhea. We’ve been treating all of this as if it is side effects of the chemo (he had similar problems after cytoxan, so we knew what to do), but he’s only improved a little.

Today I had a long talk with my vet, and the possibility of a ruptured bowel was raised. If Mr. Biscuit doesn’t improve by the end of the weekend, we’ve got to consider that diagnosis and what it means - he will not get better. I’m utterly freaking out, but on the outside, I’m as calm as I’ve been through this. My pal and I have spent the day together, with belly rubs, syringe feedings, naps, and singing (lullabies to him, purring to me on occasion).

We’ll probably know what’s what Monday.

Actually, ocean.

D left for Brussels last Sunday, after a whirlwind couple of days of cleaning, shopping and packing. Until Biscuit’s official diagnosis came in, and we got his chemo rolling, D’s trip was almost an afterthought in our lives. Well, less so for him, naturally.
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During the past two weeks, the question I’ve heard most often (besides queries about Biscuit, of course) is “how are you coping?”

The answer is one simple word: candy.
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More of D’s words.
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