And then it rained. And this weekend, it's raining.
All the rain.
And on top of that frustration, last Friday we had to put down our cat of 11 years.
It wasn't really a surprise - she had malignant breast cancer removed the year we lost our dog (I honestly thought we would lose her that year), with a prognosis of 1-3 years. Not only that, but her dental in the spring had turned up a severe heart murmur (no lie, you could feel her heart pounding if you touched her chest) and the early stages of kidney disease; a midsummer vet visit to inspect a lump on the undercarriage suggested the cancer was back as well. We decided not to remove it - in no small part because of the kidney disease and heart murmur.
The last couple of weeks, she was slowly declining - not eating enough, although she did still eat, and doing a lot of weird little things. Like... this was a cat that would not stay under a blanket with you... but she spent a whole night under one with me. She wasn't terribly interested in lying on feet anymore. It wasn't anything I could nail down as "she's done," but it was all a bunch of weirdness that had me on high alert. Then she stared having accidents, and she'd never had one in the entire time she lived with us. It was time.
So hug your pets for me? Especially the kitties.
And 2018 - you, sir, are on fucking notice. That's three this year. You'd better be done.
|The day she came home|
|Sometimes, all you can say is 'cats!'|