spacemutineer

Trigger warning for sad pet stuff.

I'm sitting here frustrated with myself because I really need to get cracking on writing a bunch of things right now, particularly my story for

acd_holmesfest and

sherlock60 stuff, but I am having the hardest time concentrating. Feeling depressed, I guess.

We just found out one of our two cats has cancer last week. She had surgery, but it is very likely it will come back. It usually does. The vet referred me to a pet oncologist, which I thought was ludicrous. I love my cat, but I am not going to pay thousands of dollars to torture her in a way I can't explain to her to buy a few extra sickly months. She's happy now (or will be once the Elizabethan collar comes off) and we'll keep her as happy we can as long as we can. And then when we can't anymore, we will try to make another rescue cat happy as we can as long as we can. It's all we can do for our pets. We'll always outlive them.

It's easy to say that logically, but it's hard not to be upset about it emotionally. She's my silly stupid fatty girl, and whenever she leaves, I will miss her terribly. I dread the concept of having to decide when is her time.

But for all my feelings on what's happening, the cat herself is oblivious. She's livid about that plastic collar, and she gets annoyed by all the extra close snugglings she gets. She never did like things close to her face, plastic or human. But during breaks from her collar, she's as excitable and sprightly as ever. May it last.