June 12

Julie didn’t have the best of days today. 

She was in my lap a bit, sure. Today is Saturday, and I was home most of the day. I fed her a mousse treat in the morning, with her Gabapentin mixed in, and she ate most of it. But after that, she was mostly MIA. She slept on my bed for most of the afternoon. 


But after dinner, she was weird. 


She seems to have connected the dots between me putting gloves on and her getting chemo pills. I’m told to wear gloves when I handle them. Her ears must recognize the squeak of the latex. 


Every time she approached me on the couch, I would walk over to the kitchen to get the pills, figuring now was the time to give them to her. And every time, when she heard the gloves, she scurried away. 


I figured maybe I could lure her out with food, then grab her after she ate. The lure worked, but I wasn’t able to get her — I didn’t want to interrupt her mid-meal, and she scooted off as soon as she finished. 


By then, it’s 10 p.m. and I don’t know where she is. I’m worrying that she’s going to miss out on today’s dose. So I make the rounds and see if I can find her. It doesn’t take too long — she’s in her favorite spot. Under the covers on the guest bed. I close the bedroom door and pull the covers back. She’s sound asleep, groggy. 


And I have to wake her to put a pill in her mouth. 


In it goes, my hands holding her mouth shut while I whisper to her: “It’s okay. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” A few seconds later, it’s over. 


She doesn’t understand these things. That’s the hardest part, in a way. 

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