I feel fucking miserable, I'm not enjoying life, and I should just be put down. Why doesn't our society treat us old hurting people like we do our animals?

I remember my cat Piper's life before I ended her suffering, and she was fucking miserable. I held her while the vet injected her with death. She let out a loud goodbye meow and went limp in my arms. It was the hardest thing I've done within recent memory.

I took her back to my little home in Tennessee and buried her below my front window. Then I drove up to the nursery and bought a beautiful small bush and planted it over her.

There was nobody there but me as I said goodbye. A couple weeks later as I was getting out of bed, she called out from the other side with a loud peaceful meow that echoed thru the house. It came from the direction of my old desk where she used to lay, watching the creek and the wildlife below.

It was her way of saying thank you, that she was free from misery, and that she was still out there, and happy.

Shelby say's I need to get out there, do stuff, make new friends! You bet my sweet grand-daughter, I'll stagger right on that. Hey, I got a short bike ride in yesterday and didn't fall over, but that's about all I've got left.

In the meantime I'm seeing a local neurologist tomorrow. I wonder if it's going to be one of those sit there and listen to your issues visits, perscribe some new meds, then send you out the door to Walgreens.

Or can I get a real solution out of it? And it ain't about quiting the shit that gets me drunk and stoned. All that does is soften everything and make it bearable while I wait for the needle, which is obviously not coming.