Sunday dinners at a friend's house, and the games we played
Quietly snuggling on the couch
Feeling wanted instead of judged
Emanating love instead of irritation
Feeling like what I do matters
Not feeling trapped by my job
Rantings and ravings from The Bad Lieutenant.
Well, I took the cat to the vet today. She was sicker than I had originally thought. The vet agreed that the humane thing to do would be to put the poor old girl out of her misery.
I had a very strong suspicion this was going to be the end result, so I spent the better part of the day cuddling her, before we actually went to the vet.
She's been part of my family, long before I had a family. She came into my life as a kitten in 1998; I didn't meet my wife until 2005.
Patches filled all of our lives with love, cuddles, and "puddins". There's a gaping hole in my heart.
Our cat, Patches, will be 17 years old this November. Or would be, except we don't think she's going to make it through the week.
She hasn't taken food or water for about 6 days, can't walk more than a few steps before laying down to rest, is noticeably thinner, and is hiding in a box of blankets in our basement. She can barely manage a "meow".
She's been with me since she was a month old (long before I met my wife), and is the stereotypical lap cat.
We're planning on letting our 6 year old daughter spend some extra time with her tomorrow morning, after which I'll be taking Patches to the vet. I don't think she'll be coming home with me though.
I'm surprisingly upset about all this.
Like the Beatles tune, there are places, people and things I still can recall.
I miss one person in particular. While we never really made it past the "friends" stage (for a number of reasons), I always felt ... different ... when we would spend time together.