Freaky Friday.

It's been a long week, filled with mostly lows.  Not that we didn't fight hard for some highs.  Sleep has eluded me most nights this week, as I am listening so intently for any sound from the sick room.  This has led to an odd shift in my schedule.

Dewy spider web in the mint
this morning.

Yesterday, I was back up to the vet early in the morning.  A new course of meds were prescribed and we returned hopeful.  They did not help, however.  As these new meds had to be given mid-day, I took a mental health day and spent it intermittently checking on Cookie and ripping things out of my garden.  There is something so cathartic about ripping out dying tomato plants, especially when you're thinking about ripping the liver out of the Universe.  Nice visual, no?

The dogs and cats have been clinging to me like various sized-strips of Velcro.  I don't know how many times I almost squashed Pepper.  They know something is amiss.  When I was done cleaning out the garden, I turned my wrath on my bags of broccoli and froze most of it.  Then I whirled around and ripped out noxious weeds in the sheep pasture.  Then I raked grass seed in with fury and muscled the lemon and fig trees inside (temps in the low 30*s forecast for this morning).

I was exhausted but, I didn't want to sleep.  I assume this was because I thought that I could conjure up some miracle by sheer fortitude.  Well, I couldn't.  At midnight, when I awoke the first time, I got up, bundled up, snapped on my headlamp and moved the youngster chickens to their halfway house.  One would think, being chickens, that they would be all loggy and limp.  Not.  These are the screaming and fainting variety, no matter what the description of the breed said.  But they are moved.

Then I came in and went back to bed and to sleep.  Until 2.  Then I forced myself to sleep and was sorry I did.  Two and a half hours of diabolical dreams had me willing myself awake at 4:30.

I made the call to the vet this morning.  Cookie has not eaten anything since Monday.  He can't keep anything down.  He is like an 85 year old man with extreme anemia.  We had a talk this morning, Cookie and I.  I explained everything as best I could and he didn't seem to complain.  I will sure miss my Pollyanna Man.  A beautiful, loving and endlessly cheerful guy.