When my grandmother died, we moved into her house. The following spring, we began to tackle the vined up, chaotic mess the back yard had become. It shocked me because Grandma always took pristine care of her yard. Then it made me sad because I realized this was a sign of her illness. The worse you feel, the fewer priorities you can handle. Sickness does a level of damage to everything connected to it.
The reason I brought this up is because of Rhiannon. My roommate thought I'd already cleaned the litterbox because there was no litter on the floor. I hadn't, but the thing is, Rhiannon was the one who was always making the huge litter mess. The worse she became, the less she wanted to eat. She still felt hunger so she would drink and drink and drink the water until she was peeing several more times a day than she used to. Everything she would pee, she would kick out the litter.
So the box is easier now. Cleaning up the area is easier now. And I know she's in less pain because that cycle of hunger and drinking and using the litterbox was probably hectic for her. I still miss her. I wish things could have been less chaotic.
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