Good news–the appointment is scheduled for tomorrow! The estimate is also a little bit less than my research indicated, though the number might fluctuate a little depending on a couple of factors.

It comes not a minute too soon because I had a meltdown Saturday night when I thought he might’ve coughed.

Some premade covers have sold, and I had another thought yesterday that might be fun–three years ago a friend did a fundraiser for the not-for-profit where I volunteer, and I shamelessly took said idea.

I’m going to write the story of how the Talbot family got their family cat Giles–and you can read it for throwing a buck in the pot.

There are various prizes I’ll randomly draw for should the total climb higher. Any excess raised will be put down on my account at the vet so I have it for whatever else he needs.

You’ll find all the details on this page.

The story will be sent to everyone toward the end of November or early December. It’ll go on Patreon next year and not be available for sale elsewhere. The fundraiser will stay open until November 30.

On Tuesday my vet very calmly told me there is some arrhythmia when she listened to Shawn’s heartbeat.

I did not have a panic attack…because I already had one the night before when preparing for that very thing, though I did need to go home and have a Valium and cry all night with worry.

It might be absolutely nothing and just a sign of him being stressed at the vet (he was quite uncertain about what was going on and why people kept poking at him). But he’s the surviving member of his entire family so the only history we have is Gus. I don’t want to take any chances and I can’t live constantly afraid like this–if there is something wrong, or some problem beginning, I want to be able to start treatment immediately and at least prepare for it. Every moment since the afternoon we lost Gus, I’ve been scared of this very thing.

Cardiac ultrasounds aren’t cheap. Though I’d already been saving for one, all the vet bills this fall have depleted what I had, and my work hours have dropped drastically this whole time I’ve been ill (and I can’t realistically take on a bunch more projects this month, or I’ll work myself sick again, which I can’t afford to do). So I’m using what resources I already have to bring in extra cash–or hoping to.

The first is a premade cover sale.

These covers can be customized in a couple of business days if you’re ready now, or reserved for later use.

15% off all covers, including ones already discounted and the trilogy sets, when entering the code PINEAPPLE* at checkout via my online shop.

I’d appreciate it shared far and wide, if you have writer circles or friends who might be looking for that special cover. Various genres available.

The same code also works for my online ebook shop: 15% off with the code PINEAPPLE. Mobi/Epub/Pdf available of all my books, and some are only available there (the Livi Talbot Holiday Short, Dial V for Vampire, 9 Crimes, Prey).

I also have most of my print books available for sale, which can be signed and inscribed for you or a friend. No discounts there as I sell what I pay for them and you’ll be billed later for shipping (unless you’re local). The list and instructions are here.

I don’t have the estimated cost of the ultrasound yet or a date (I’ll be calling on Monday to remind them), so I’ve set the sales to go until December 1 in the hopes that’s enough time. We’re doing bloodwork that day as well, so I’m likely looking at around $1K if my research on costs is accurate. It’ll either tell us the heart looks fine, the heart has some kind of defect, or there might be some heart issue starting and we should recheck in six months.

I am thoroughly terrified. I actually started on CBD oil this week in the hopes it might better manage my anxiety. I don’t think I will survive losing him.

Other than that, everything is pretty quiet around here. I am doing my best to cope with stuff, but I’m exhausted and frustrated by how limited my energy is after being sick, and still really depressed at the state of the Livi series. I’m really struggling with any sort of human interaction–it takes me about ten times as long to send work emails as usual and I have (non-work) messages from weeks ago I haven’t been able to reply to. I try to keep reminding myself that my avoidance and paralysis is my brain trying to protect me from expending emotional energy I don’t have now–so many frustrating behaviors of ours are survival mechanisms–but it doesn’t make coping any easier. I’m hoping when I shake this cough I’ll crawl my way back out again.

I just want my kitten to be okay.

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*I debated for a while what to make the coupon code and opted for pineapple, obviously.

In October I had $1100 in vet bills (and I lost Marcus), food poisoning, and a very bad cold that has left me in bed for a week and that I’m still recovering from. Now I have a cat with a bad ear infection and aural hematoma to contend with, so the rest of the year is probably going to be garbage.

Anyway! I finished writing a thing while I was drugged up with NyQuil and posted it today for Patrons. Surprise!

It’s not a story, in that there is no standard structure or anything. It’s just writing I was doing for myself that I thought I’d provide for patrons as they await the next book.

Next is the new River story coming for Christmas–I have to do a revision pass before I send it for copyedits (preferably when I’m not drugged up on NyQuil). Funny thing about dipping back into that world–last night the whole final story bloomed in my head, the one I want to do after Wolfe that’s set about a decade+ after the initial series.

I haven’t the time–too much else to write, and I haven’t done the Wolfe revisions yet anyway–but it’s weird how something sneaks up on you. For now, the image of River climbing into a blind to attack a hunter and threaten him for being on her property–and then stealing his rifle–will remain in my brain.

He had a very long name. Most of my pets do, but that was the first time I gave one a long involved name. As a teen, my favourite book was Donna Gillespie’s The Light Bearer, and Marcus Arrius Julianus was the male lead. That was where I got the name from.

A big name for a very small cat, but he was a polydactyl; anyone with that many toes needed a big name.

As a kitten, Marcus was very tiny and in a house with many cats and dogs, so for the first few weeks he was kept in the bathroom and visited frequently, but that must’ve stunted his social development because he became a very awkward cat.

He lived with my mother for most of his life, and the cats were in the basement away from the dogs. After I moved to her town, he went missing one day–it turned out he had just gone next door to hang out under the neighbour’s porch…but he could not be caught. Because he would just sit there and stare at her, and would dart under and hide when she went to pick him up.

Worried for his safety, I offered to take him–at that point I only had one other cat, my dog, and my rabbit–and he settled in…still awkward. He slept at the end of the bed and I could pet him, but he wasn’t an affectionate lap cat by any stretch.

That did change over the years, however. One of my paranoid fears is not being able to evacuate my pets during a fire, so I was determined to get him used to being picked up in case of an emergency. He tolerated it after a lot of practice.

And the more I watched him, the more I found he wanted attention, he just wasn’t sure how to seek it out. He would sit a few feet away and stare at me throughout the day; if I sat on the floor and reached out, he wouldn’t run but let me pet him. Little by little, the gap got smaller and smaller until he reached a point of head-bopping me when he wanted to be pet.

When I got sick in 2014, I was pretty much in bed all the time for six months. And though all of the cats loved that particular turn of events, it was Marcus who became my constant companion. Though never a lap cat, I found he enjoyed curling up against me while I lay on my side, and it was during that time we really seemed to bond.

I’d be remiss in not mentioning: he was fastidious in grooming himself, resulting in large piles of fur all over the place and often stuck hanging from his mouth like a beard.

• 

• 

He was not a cat for pilling/medicating, but managed to do pretty well for the past year on a kidney diet with my other elderly cat. Besides his kidneys not being great, his liver was starting to struggle, and his heartbeat was all out of whack. He lost his vision about five weeks ago but continued to manage until it became too much for his kidneys and daily sub-q fluids wouldn’t go over well long-term.

Marcus Arrius Julianus, the small cat with the long name, passed peacefully with veterinary assistance yesterday.

The house isn’t much changed on the surface; he had a very quiet, subtle presence. But that silence had a weight and was a constant, and I feel its lack quite acutely.