MY BLOG ENTRY FOR TODAY: When I adopted Jaime, they told me she was an older cat, and asked if I knew what that meant. I said, yes so her incontinence and everything, I signed up for this, She deserved a nice sunset; every living thing does. Besides, I’d just been through love and loss with Grendel, so very recently then, so my pump/heart was all primed to handle it.
Death, I mean. So, her recent vet trips, her cost/maintenance, its all on me. I need to find out how much Scott has spent on her, to date, and pay him back.Cause this is MY fault. I do’t regret a minute of it, though She’s helped me so much, and loved me so well.
And helped me get through some REALLY rough times. A lot of times, when I wanted to kill myself, I climbed down off that ledge solely or at least primarily because she needed me. To live.
No one else NEEDS me. Oh, they want me around because they like, even (agape) love me, but NEED me? No one . Just Jaime.
And I need her.
Arguing for my independence with my trust lords has gotten really old, really fast. See, I’m like a poor man’s Brittany Spears: all my money is in a special needs trust, dispensed as need be by my Trustees: Gil Roth and Peter Johnson. Gil, I’ve been friends with since St. John’s. Peter does this for a living, & cuts me a world of always legal and ethical slack. More tomorrow. Nighty-night.
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