I’m having one of those days where my heart hurts and I can’t find anything to help. Sad and anxious. Lonely and I don’t want to be around people. Hungry and I don’t want anything to eat. Tired and I don’t want to sleep.
In Mothra’s last few minutes, I held her and walked the length of my kitchen over and over again. The vet had given her a sedative, and soon she’d be relaxed enough that he’d be able to run an IV and give her the rest of the meds to end it all. And I had this crazy panicked moment where I nearly said you know what, let’s call this whole thing off — you can go back to your office, I’ll stay here with my cat, the sedative will wear eventually off, and she’ll still be alive and everything will be fine!
I didn’t say it. It wouldn’t have been fine. It would have been stupid and cruel and selfish. But it was what I wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment.
Instead I told her I loved her, and when I put her down and let go of her for the last time, I made sure she could see me every moment until it was over. If she was aware enough to know something was happening around her, I wanted her to know I was there.
My heart breaks all over again every day when I come home and she’s not here, and I see how totally attention-starved Blinky is. She’s never been alone in a house before and it’s freaking her out. I’m nowhere near ready for another cat, but it’s not fair of me to keep Blinky lonely and unhappy because browsing Petfinder.com makes me sad. So I’ll get another cat. And hopefully they’ll get along and hopefully it’s not as hard as I think it’s going to be. It’s hard enough already.