This week has been rough. My beautiful cat, who has been my friend throughout my 20’s and into my 30’s, is dying. I was dreading this week because I knew it was time to take her to the vet, and I knew it wasn’t going to be good news and that it was going to lead to lots of awesomely expensive tests. To complicate things, I don’t have a sitter and had to take Little T with me. He made it so hard. He’s usually very good but was having a bad day for some reason. He was crying and fussy and couldn’t sit still. He wanted my iphone but he didn’t want my iphone, and being quiet was the last thing he wanted to do. He was being so loud that the vet had to take Angel into another room to listen to her heart. Isn’t it crazy how parenting can sometimes turn a difficult task into an overwhelmingly impossible one in .03 seconds?
I knew from the vet’s face that it was bad news when he came back in the room. He said Angel had heart failure, and that we had to go to the animal emergency room. I called Big T who was home sick, and asked him to come and help me with Little T. We went to the animal hospital together and they said Angel needed a heart test, so this morning I’m driving two hours out to Carlsbad because that’s where their heart doctor is on Wednesdays. How can we afford this? We can’t. Ugh.
Despite everything, I had to go to a networking event last night. I was able to pull myself together for a few hours until the way home. That’s when I lost it. I mean, mascara running down my face, sobbing-into-the-steering-wheel-lost-it. Ugh.