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Cross That Bridge

Anxiety about the future death of my beloved cat Atlas

By SqueebsPublished 2 months ago Updated 2 months ago 1 min read
A sweet bubby-wubby-kins (aka Atlas) asleep on me.

“But what if this shit takes him away from meee?” I sob.

I am absolutely ugly crying on the kitchen floor of my apartment, grieving the loss of my much-alive cat.

I can’t cope with this future turmoil!

How will I live the day to see him go!?

*Atlas casually nestles up against my leg.*

Oh shit.

Why am I worrying about a cat that I can enjoy right now?

He lives on!

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I mutter.

It comes out as a whisper at first.

I repeat it again and again — Two-three more times until I manage to get it as loudly as I can,

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I say.

I scoop my lively kitty into my arms and bump foreheads to let him know I care.

The little asshole swats at me instead.


For context, in the first sentence, I say, "what if this shit takes him away from meee."

The "shit" in question was a terrible case of Bartonella. A severe but treatable infection that Bubby was diagnosed with in January 2023 after rounds and rounds of tests from various vet offices.

End result: he was treated, and now Atlas is Bartonella-free! He is still a butt-munch though.


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