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I fell like I need to write this out, so I can't forget.


So, my cat Chewie has been very ill for a few days, and we take her to the vet, but all we can afford is some anti-biotics and pain-killers for her. So, we take her home, giver her the meds and hope for the best.

Later on that night, my mom walks in and tells me she thinks Chewie won't make it through the night. She says she's sorry and that we've done all we can do, we can't afford expensive blood work and such-the stuff i feel she needed. Of course I was hurt, to know that a second time, I could only watch as one of my pets dies. I go to bed, praying that Chewie can at least make it through the night.

I wake up to get my morning green tea to which there was only one packet left. My dad lets me know that Chewie died last night, and he's going to bury her.


It's painful to know that we could do nothing for her, we didn't have the money or even know what was truely wrong with her, accept that she was direly sick.

I write this in Eternal memory of Chewie, RIP little.