The Grieving Process
My cat hasn't eaten in a couple of days. She stumbles around and appears to be losing her footing. It's hard for her to bend down to drink water. She is somewhere around 16 years old. I think her time has come. My husband told me to take her to the vet. I can't. He will have to take her tomorrow to see if anything can be done. I have cried all day and thrown myself into fixing things.
I have mended things on the sewing machine, applied missing buttons, found my jewelry tools and fixed some broken necklaces. I even ironed some clothes. I don't usually do that. My ironing board is strictly for display and generally used as a landing spot for various things I haven't put away. Sometimes I iron on patches for my daughter's girl scout uniform, but that's about it. Today I ironed a bunch of shorts. I cried some more. I can't seem to focus on actual work I have to do.
It's just a cat, right? But she was our first love, our first child. My husband and I got her mere months after marriage. I didn't even like cats that much, but he talked me into it and as soon as I spotted her in the no-kill animal shelter, I knew she had chosen me. We got her home and followed her around like paparazzi, snapping pictures of every pose. She is a star.
Through my anxiety, she always calms me. When I had atrial fibrillation, while pregnant with my first child, she purred and snuggled with me to keep me calm until my ride arrived to take me to the emergency room. With all my pregnancies, she curled up against my belly, knowing what was happening. It was her protective spot. When I had to get moles removed, or medical tests, the doctors always laughed at me because I would carry a picture of her to look at while they took care of business. She kept my blood pressure down.
She has never been weird, crazy or aloof. Just loving. To everyone. I don't know what they will say tomorrow afternoon, so I will continue to pet her and talk to her, and make her feel as comfortable as she has always made me feel. And fix things around the house that I know I can fix.