Jack Monroe #340 Not a professional account

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Dear cabal.



I have had to take a step away from Jack recently and, given that this place has been solace during my darkest times, here I return.



Earlier this week, we had our beloved boxer dog put to sleep. She was only 7.



A week and a half ago, she seemed low. Not her usual bouncy, helicopter tailed self. It lasted a few days so we took her to the vet. They couldn’t find any sign of anything wrong - my dog, of course, was all boops and smiles - but decided to take a suite of blood tests later to rule stuff out.



Two days later, we were woken by a clattering sound next door. My dog staggered into our hallway, confused and weak, and dribbling a bit of wee. We ushered her into our bedroom, cradled her while she recovered, and carried her to her favourite spot on the sofa.



Another vet trip, and more bemusement at what was wrong. All the bloods were normal, and we were just waiting for the heart. To rule that out, she was referred to a cardiologist but, in the meantime, we kept her comfy and full of her favourite roast chicken.



These collapses started happening daily. They wiped her out, but when she rallied it was like nothing was wrong. Wowfing with joy when her dad and I snuck a hug; sitting at my feet as I made yet more chicken; running to me with her crocodile ‘teefs’ toy. Friends came over and we presented them with a bag of gifts for their new baby; pup gently reached into the bag and lifted out the stuffed giraffe in her chops. It was for her, right?



Tuesday, cardiologists. She was going to be kept in for a few hours for some scans, an ECG, the works. I kissed her on the head and we headed back home.



Half an hour down the road, we were called back. They’d found something on the scan.



There was a huge mass on her spleen, and there was fluid around her organs. When the fluid was withdrawn for sampling, it was blood. The suspected tumour had ruptured, and was bleeding. Cancer was most likely spreading throughout her body as we spoke.



The vet soberly said we could refer her on for other scans, but she was too weak to travel far. She had that look in her eyes of ‘you know what I’m saying, don’t you’.



We gently got her home. Blanket on the sofa, chicken in the oven. She was snoozing, stirring when we chatted, and very interested when she could smell what was cooking. And we held her paw, and kissed her head, and got a good lungful of popcorn paw.



And at 4.30, we took her to the vet. We explored the fields around there, talked to her, and took her in. She died in my lap, wrapped in her blanket, with her dad and I telling her how good she was and how much we loved her.



Cabal, my heart is broken. I mean, my chest literally hurts. Our house is far too quiet and I don’t know how we’re supposed to live without her (I know we will). We are moving to our first purchased home together in a few weeks and I am devastated that she isn’t with us (I mean, she will be. In a little pot, and in a ring I’ve ordered for myself, and in our hearts). I haven’t cried like this since my Dad died when I was 14.



And I see the tokenistic pictures of Laurie, and I think about Jack ignoring three vets, and I think about the other animals, and I’m furious. Incandescent. Outraged at how unfair it is. Part of pet ownership is putting your pain before theirs; being devoted until the end. They love you unconditionally, and it is the very least you owe them.



I cried when I made tea tonight because she wasn’t by my side waiting for drops. But my pain came before hers; my suffering must prevent any of hers. And that’s just what you do. They are not there for clout, or content. They are family, and you will lay your very heart down for them.
So sorry for your loss ♥
 
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Firefighting Experts of the Canal reporting for duty. Looking mighty spiffy in those outfits too, if I do say so myself.

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Slopbot is amazing, great work TS. You are an artist...unlike the apprentice who inked Jack. Whoops!

PS I had sex with two firemen (not at the same time), just call me Old Chief. 🚒
 
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In restaurant parlance, Friday is Global Release Day. You know what that means - it's time to unleash the first Pet Slop Bots album. You can download it directly from here: http://www.slopbot.com/petslopbots.html as a zip file. It should work on any device but if it doesn't, please let me know and I can find an alternative way to upload it. Tuck into your electroslop, dear hearts. It's a nourishing bed soup for your ears.

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That is amazing. Genuinely better than the pre-programmed work playlist I'm currently stuck with
 
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I have some tit tattoos - including a "butterfly" which actually looks like a fat little bald man wearing fairy wings with his cock dangling between his legs.

I own it though - I had it done on a whim at a cheapo studio - I knew it was awful and didn't try to pretend that it anything other than a cheap, tit piece of work. I'm sort of proud of how hilariously awful it is nowadays. My first tattoo - a large rose on my bicep that I had done in 1992 is still cleaner and brighter than any of Jack's horrible blown out work.
One of my colleagues has a tattoo of what was supposed to be a robin on her foot. It looks like a mortally wounded penguin.

She says she had been drinking when she had it done, and suspects the tattooing had as well.
 
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Oooh Harold! You must be an expert in fires and firefighting just like the Canal, because that is quite the BURN!
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You’ll be going on about her lesbian clothes next…
 
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I’ve bunged the twattoo evidence in media because I wanted to laugh at it again and again but couldn’t find it.
Anyway I found it and am hysterical with laughter, I think it’s the aneurism Lads, it’s finally here! The way each of the numbers looks like a different person has drawn each; the white outline, the bendy key prongs, the ropey ribbon and the smudged circle! 10/10 would recommend Jack continues to get tit tats.
 
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Coming from the past, but just wanted to say that presumably this means we've seen the last of 'furious dervish of cold fury activist Jack', no? From now on, there'll be no shouting at the government and trying to change the world; instead I do look forward to Jack softly, gently explaining to toothpaste-eating senior citizens and freezing families of five huddled round a single bar heater that they need to change their attitudes because this is exactly what God wants for them right now.
 
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It really is a bad tattoo, isn't it? Just because you have space on your person, doesn't mean you have to get the wobbly handed first day apprentice to try their luck.

It's hit n miss enough getting a haircut by a student, but at least it'll grow out...
Before lockdown I was a ‘model’ at our local college. The manicure week went badly, unset nail varnish which puckered and had to be removed as soon as I got home. Eyebrow shape and tint seemed to be going well until the student called the tutor over, she hadn’t used enough Vaseline which resulted in half my brow being waxed off, wouldn’t have been too bad normally but she dyed them a dark colour. The dye eventually faded and my brow grew back, I chickened out of bikini waxing week. I certainly wouldn’t use a student for a tattoo.
 
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Just thinking about my post about Watchdog doing a program on patreon grifting and just had an image in my head of Jack saying she's got a TV gig 🤦‍♀️ 🤦‍♂️ :ROFLMAO:
 
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I’m just always glad when pop up Scammy S! 👋

On topic, Jack‘s been quiet for a Friday. Probably looking at her newly tattooed arm from different angles and going, “oh tit…. it IS upside down“.
I reckon there were a few cans hurled and some radiators pulled off walls last night 🤭. I couldn't work out why it looked off at first. Now I ~literally~ can't unseen it. So like Jack to get the hole in the wrong place.
 
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