lydy | Grief comes in lumps -- Bucky Barnes 2015

Ann sent me a text last night, saying that Bucky was not doing well. He'd stopped eating, and his breathing had gone Cheyne Stokes. I told her to take him to the vet emergency hospital at the University, and that I would pay. She texted about a half an hour later. He'd died on the way, never made it to the hospital. She was holding him when he died. I don't know if that was a comfort to him. I don't know if it was a comfort to Ann.

We did the best we could. It shouldn't be a surprise. Bottle-rearing kittens has a very low success rate, and he was badly underweight. At his probable age, he should have weighed probably twice what he did. I don't know what he died of. It is unlikely that there was anything that would have saved him. Ann tried so hard. He seemed like he was going to make it. And then, he didn't.

I could have kept him in the hospital, rather than letting Ann foster him. At a guess, it would have been $700 to $1000 for the first night, and somewhere between $300 and $500 for each night thereafter. Several thousand dollars. And, honestly, it might not have worked. But I keep on thinking that there was something that could have been done.

Grief comes in lumps. I think I'm fine, and then I find that I'm crying again. He was so very small. I know that mammal brains are wired this way, that we respond to baby mammals with empathy and care. Lady Jane Grey was very smart to go and find people when she couldn't care for her baby anymore. Unfortunately, we couldn't care for him either.

Lady Jane is doing well. I'll do a separate update. She's currently lying next to me on the couch, asleep. She's a very sweet lady. I hope we win this one.