At 6pm, we were in a barely intact tricycle rushing to the nearest vet clinic in Pioneer Center. I was holding you as if you were my baby. You were crying, unable to move. Your usually pink nose turning orangey, then light brown, until it became almost white. I was supposed to head to the airport for my flight to Saigon before 7. It would have been very exciting to go to that city, after all, we named your best friend, Mimi, after that tragic bargirl Gigi Van Tran in Miss Saigon.
But there you were, looking exhausted, almost dying. Tumi, I still want to celebrate your birthday, spend happy time with you and Mimi, give you a happy cat life, cook food for you, take more pictures of you and Mimi.
Hang on there, baby.