InsaneJournal

From Eastern Standard Tribe by Cory Doctorow:

In truth, Art has mourned and buried his mother. He was raised just fine by his Gran, and when he remembers his mother, he is more sad about not being sad than sad about her.

My family has been discussing what to do with our cat, Henry. He's about 16 years old, and we've had him for most of that time. Of late he has started moving more slowly, and having trouble with stairs and beds and things. Even more than usual he is exhibiting stupidity and passivity about the world around him (he's never been a very active or intelligent cat).

It's his end of life, he's going to die and then we're going to find another cat. My mother brought this up on Friday — should we let him die on his own, or should we have him euthanised? We've had this conversation several times, but nobody really seems to want to come to a decision.

The alternatives were discussed:

1. Pros of Euthanasia
   1. Cleaner; apparently dying is messy.
   2. He won't suffer any longer; apparently dying is painful, but much less so with the addition of barbiturates.
2. Pros of Natural Death
   1. It's very cheap.
   2. We don't have to go to the trouble of finding someone to kill him for us.

People get very attached to their pets, to the point that finding a veterinarian to euthanize them is difficult. I don't know; due probably in part to my AS (about which I've learned much in recent years) I find many parts of daily life difficult. It usually takes me a month or more to get myself sitting in a barber's chair. I think that such an act (finding a vet to kill their pet) would be as hard for most people as working myself up to do periodic maintenance tasks such as buying clothing or cutting my hair is for me. But these things are hard for me not because they are almost emotionally unattainable, but because I have to make decisions whose outputs matter to other people (with inscrutable opinions) and I have little to no opinion myself.

Back to the topic at hand. My cat. I, following the logic which my mother put forth, advocated euthanising Henry soon. He's suffering from dementia and probably arthritis, and he's not getting better. Why suffer?

Interestingly, when I used her logic to try to convince her to do the right thing, she turned on me (though not in the traitorious sense; she simply changed position). She claimed, partially in jest and completely in other words, that I was being heartless. Perhaps it's because I've never seen anyone die, any dead person, or even a dead animal that I was particularly attached to. (I don't tend to get attached to animals; they're just animals. Sometimes I think I like computers better. But I digress.)

In fact, I don't know where I'm headed with this. But it's good to write.

Back to the quote at the beginning. I tend to dispatch emotions faster than other people, and the only thing remaining is a vague regret that I don't have what's expected of me. (What is it that gives Society the power to say what I ought to feel?) Most of the time I subsist (?) on joy and a sort of numbness. Occasionally I'll have a burst of fury. It feels great to be angry, but I wouldn't want to have it every day or even as much as every week.