He’s home now. But, I’m to spend a good 20 minutes, twice a day, administering pills, powders, liquids, and sticking him with a needle to fill him up with a subcutaneous fluid. In the meantime, he’s not eating–’cept sometimes he’ll take his wet food from my hand (ew), and only a few teaspoons.

So, now, I’m supposed to just watch him deteriorate?

There he is, sitting by the kitchen sink again.

It’s like living with Bambi’s mom, Old Yeller, Sounder and Pharlap 24/7. I don’t know if I can take it. I have to be so strong.

This is really hard.

But, I’m so grateful that he’s home and being loved.