I found Otis on the floor at the foot of Sam's bed this morning. It was early and Sam was still asleep. Otis looked up at me as if to say, "What, you expected me to stay in the kitchen all night?" I was happy to see him. And I felt bad for leaving him in the kitchen.
Olav the cat set him free in the night when he bulldosed his way through a door that doesn't latch properly. (It's an old house and I'm a lazy, ungifted handyman.) Anyway, Sam muttered from under his blanket, "He tried to climb up but he couldn't make it." I guess Sam must have been too tired to help him.
So he made it through the night and now he's made it through another day. He's also managing to keep down some left over mac and cheese that I'm hiding his steroids and the benadryl in. The benadryl's side effect is sleepiness, which I feel is a good thing for Otis now because his tumor has grown too large for his leg to maneuver around. So in one sense, the benadryl is acting as a type of morphine drip, if you will.
Tomorrow I plan to call Dr. J but I don't believe he'll be in. One, it's a holiday. And two, I don't think he works on Mondays. If he is in, I will need to take that most difficult drive. I have thought about doing it at home but something is telling home is not the right place right now. I kind of want to avoid the weight of the sadness and grief the final act would bring. There is already enough of it as it is. And I don't want our final vision of him to be the one where I put him down where he's always got up.
If tomorrow is not the day, then it will be Tuesday - Inauguration Day. The day of change. Only this change will be a lot harder to swallow.