I’m just going to say it – I blame myself for Peepers’s death. I should have noticed earlier that something wasn’t right. I should have taken him to the emergency vet on Saturday, or at least on Sunday night. I shouldn’t have waited so long to get him in to see someone. Maybe if I had he’d still be here.
But maybe he wouldn’t. There’s no way to know. But that doesn’t stop my from blaming myself entirely, even if it isn’t entirely rational. When I adopted him, I promised to take care of him. And I didn’t. I let him down. And now he’s not here. It’s my fault.
I know I’m probably somewhere in the stages of grief, but I don’t know where, and I don’t really care.
I know I’m also at a real risk for depression right now. And of course my therapist is on vacation and my psychiatrist is MIA. I just want to go back to bed.