CW: pet illness (spoiler: he’s okay)
This week has been a hot mess. The mess began last weekend when Katie had diarrhea, and shortly after she stopped, Edgar started. Our yard often has feral cats and other wildlife roaming through it, so it’s never surprising when someone picks up a stomach bug. The problem is that Edgar’s wouldn’t clear on its own. Cue me calling the vet, then panicking because I thought he might have pancreatitis due to him appearing to have stomach cramps and vomiting. Luckily, he did not have pancreatitis, just a really nasty stomach bug, but while we were there, I had the vet do senior blood work on him. Low and behold, Edgar has stage 2 kidney disease. Now, this not a death sentence or anything. This is a lifestyle change that involves cutting back on snacks he shouldn’t have, adding supplements to flush the bad stuff from his blood stream, being careful with future meds he’s given, and getting prescription food that doesn’t contain the things his kidneys can’t process as easily.
Was I upset? Absolutely. I had a good five minute cry because it is upsetting to hear that your old man has old man issues. Everyone wants their dog to be immortal, but of all the old man issues to have, this is probably one of the easier ones to deal with. I immediately bought all the new food and supplies, brought my vet a urine sample, and did some extra research on how to best support him.
As you can guess, writing fell by the wayside for the better part of a week. The type A part of me wants to berate me for letting all the balls drop, but I have managed to resist the compulsion to do so. No one in my family asks where they rank against the dogs because they probably won’t like the answer, and if my dog was a human child or adult, no one would question why I had stepped back for a few days to get my shit together and take care of my loved one. I’m not apologizing for caring for my beloved pet and prioritizing them over my work.
The funny thing is by not being hard on myself about stepping back for a few days, I’m less stressed and actually want to write. What’s held me back more than anything is fatigue rather than being a bundle of nerves or self-reproach. My body is signaling that I need to slow down, and I’m really trying to listen because being an author is a marathon, not a sprint. Destroying my mental and physical health for a deadline I set is just foolish.
2026 has been rough, like the worst year I have experienced in a very long time. I would actually say ever. If it has taught me anything, it’s to prioritize the people and creatures I care about, including myself. You can’t help others or do the things you want to do if you aren’t well enough to do so, and while we can’t always have others pick up the slack or take off for weeks at a time, do what you can when you can to rest. In the long run, it’s worth it.
