This apartment used to have four hearts beating… now there are only two.

Solo somos tu y yo Chimba… she doesn’t seem to care.

What a fucking awful feeling. I just got back from the veterinarian… Bisho is gone.

He was the same as always last week. Except he was demanding more food than usual. And on Wednesday morning… he didn’t have breakfast. He also skipped lunch and dinner… Weird for a fat cat.

I took him to a new veterinarian… He gave me some medication for me to give him twice a day. He still wasn’t eating. I texted the veterinarian, but he didn’t seem concerned and recommended a food brand.

I took him to my usual veterinarian. I regret not taking him there from the start… After blood analysis, we found out Bisho had stage IV kidney failure. It was a bad prognosis…

He stayed at the veterinarian’s for three nights to see if he reacted to the IV fluid medication. He didn’t get any better.

I spent all day today with him. Hugging him. Giving him tiny kisses. Cheering him on… one last hurrah. Come on, Bisho… get better. He could barely move his tail, but I like to think that is because hearing me made him happy.

It’s going to be fucking horrible to wake up and not see him. I’m so used to having two cats…

He was an asshole cat.

But he was my asshole cat.

Mr. Andmrew Meowricio Pollock Bisholino II

Bisho.

March 2014-March 2026.

I’m fucking devastated…

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It’s been depressive weeks. I have to send a depressive email. It’s a depressing day with rain.

It’s been two weeks without Bisho, and I still hear him meow. Chimba doesn’t seem to care and finally understands that her food is not on top of the fridge anymore.

Her food was there because Bisho had a different diet. His plate still rotates.

I wrote the intro two weeks ago, right after he was gone. The day after, I had a tour. Game face on.

And the day after that, I picked up his ashes. That same afternoon, I buried him in a big potted cactus that I have on my balcony. It’s cactus, nice dirt, ashes, nice dirt, ashes, nice dirt, pebbles. Bisho is now a cactus. Or so are his remains.

They say the death of a pet makes it easier to get over losing a grandparent… or a parent.

Losing a parent should make it better when losing a pet.

But it didn’t.

I was devastated and couldn’t stop crying for a while. I’m going to miss him.

Some part of me is liberated.

I don’t have to worry about his special diet. I don’t have to clean the litter as often. I can leave Chimba unattended, though it makes me sad that she’s alone. She doesn’t seem to care.

I don’t want another cat. I don’t want another girlfriend. I don’t want to be heartbroken. I have to work on myself.

And that’s when this depressive blog turns better….

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I have a lot of work!

I’ve fallen into a depressive routine, but there are good things!

I have a lot of work! I work for a few hours daily, posting stuff everywhere. So much content. My home office is truly working as a home office. Reels, photos, voiceovers, tons of social media. My own. My business. And four restaurants. It’s a lot of work. And I love it.

A lot of tours. One got canceled on Saturday, and other people wanted the date (and I told them I couldn’t, but then said I could). Well… I got lucky and ended up having a group on Saturday that paid cash. April is halfway done, and by the end of the month, I should get paid again.

And at the end of the month, I have more tours. One already paid me, so it’s going to feel like I’m doing it for free. But it’s with repeat customers, and they are awesome. They are going to be in my next book.

I have a book to write.

I will finish it before 2026 ends.

I’ve been working out…

Sorta.

I thought about going to the gym… but now I get my cardio at the arcade. Pump It Up is a fucking workout. According to the machine, I burn around 200 calories per song. I played 9 songs one day, and the day after, I was destroyed.

Pump It Up is my cardio. At home, I do pushups, situps, and more. Yoga stretches and whatnot.

I have to work on myself. I have to work on creating a shit ton of content. I have to work on my book.

It’s going to be a busy year. It has been so far… and it’s only going to get busier.

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I made a viral TikTok and Instagram reel. It pays me nothing. That’s fucking depressive. It has less than 3k views on Facebook, and that pays me 25 cents.

It has over 500k combined on the other platforms. That could have been $250 usd. But they don’t pay me. My Instagram is based in Mexico, and they don’t reward creators here. Bullshit. TikTok doesn’t pay either. Bullshit.

More followers. More comments. More likes. I don’t eat likes. But it turns into money somehow. Fucking future.

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The next two weeks of April are going to be busy.

Not sure what May holds except my birthday. Fucking 40 years old. I have a skincare routine now. I wasn’t afraid of getting old because I always thought I was going to die young. Now I’m afraid.

I take care of myself, but there is nothing to do about aging except face it. Soon I will also be ashes. Better make the best of it while I’m still here.

Thanks for reading.

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