Lest we forget...

I keep vacillating on this one.  Do I write one more blog about how depressed I am that my Cat died. Tell y'all how hard it was not to cry at my desk today at work? Or do I do a fucking inspirational it's Remembrance Day, we should be grateful for what we have, what our grandparents fought for speech. I never met one of my grandfathers, but he fought in the war and I'm sure he was awesome, just like my Dad. 

Hmm. I am grateful for what I have. Except for the dead cat and the new stalker. (Stalker, I don't blame you for being in love with me, I'm pretty awesome. But the fact that you somehow got my cell phone number and called me the other night really makes me very nervous. Please don't do that again.)

The Cat wasn't just another friend that I lost, she was the last real link I had to that past life. She was with me when I found Travis, married him, divorced him. She was with me through those absolutely terrible years. 

Living in the past will never get us anywhere we really want to go in life. And if life hasn't killed me yet, then it really should be worried because there's nothing left to take away from me at this point. I'm like Liam Neeson is any of his movies. Scary. I'm going to leave it to the true artist here to say what I really want to say, but seriously: You're gonna hear me roar. 

So long, old friend.

I don't cry anymore. I remember back in the day, after everything happened, Stuart would call me to check in and the first thing he'd ask is, Mahhhhhhhrgaux, do you still cry at your desk?

No. I did yesterday though and I totally got caught. Crying at my desk. I have to say, one of the most difficult things about owning a pet is deciding when to let go. They have great lives. We feed them, pet them, clean up their poo.

But they give us so much back all that shit is totally worth it. Those people who never own pets really cannot be trusted. It's a commitment, similar to having kids, I believe you're in it for the long run once you adopt someone who needs a home.

Cat has been here for 14 years now. And she was already an adult when I got her, so she is very old. The average age they live is 12-15 years. So I got lucky with her. But I was probably a really bad cat-mom so it goes without saying it's no doubt a good thing I never ended up with those kids I so desperately wanted. I'm sure kids are more work than a cat.

She's put up with a lot. Roomates. I married and divorced a guy who really hated cats. She has outlived all my apartments, jobs, boyfriends, friends, even my marriage. She was there when I was kicked out of the j-dubs and completely alone. I cried a lot and barely left the house, but I think she kinda was ok with it because we had lots of cuddle time in bed.

Animals are truly loyal companions, they don't complain, even when they're in pain, which as it turns out, Cat has been dealing with for a long time although I didn't know. Us humans could learn something from them.

I knew the way things were going, but I still wasn't completely ready for the call I got tonight from the vet with her test results. There's nothing they can really do for an 18 year old dying cat. They wanted me to bring her in tonight but I was like, hell no. Give me some time to process this. So they gave me 14 or 15 hours. I could tell them to go eff themselves but she's obviously in pain and suffering and after everything she's given me, I will not make her wait days or weeks to end that for her.

Tonight, we're just at home, cuddling. She knows what I know, and she's not fighting it anymore. She's been crying the past couple of days asking me to take care of this for her. So tomorrow morning I will. But for now, we've got tonight.

Chat Noir, you really are the best cat ever. You will be missed.

I love you but I'm leaving you anyways

My Cat is going to die. I know, I know, we're all going to die but she's very old. And lately, she's too skinny and kinda mangy looking and I come home from work and my apartment is literally a shitshow.

I'm afraid to take her to the vet though, cause I'm not ready to say goodbye.

Saying goodbye is something I'm very, very bad at. Once I love someone, I always love them. This week, I had dinner with my mom and sister. My mom has now moved to South America, and while part of me is relieved, part of me really wishes the past 4 years could have been different.

The next night, I had dinner with another old friend from the past. Today, I was walking down the street and I saw my ex-best friend. I won't lie, I hid. But I felt bad about it, so I went back. And faced the music. It was fine. We hugged, we talked a bit, and I went home.

I recently broke up with my new best friend, so when he wanted to see me tonight, I thought I needed a friendly face. The problem with people you've dated is usually the friendship is ruined. I didn't want to believe that, so I went, but as it turns out, you can't go back.

The relationship wasn't right, we wanted different things out of life and no matter how much you love someone, goals, priorities, lifestyle, schedules, all these things matter. So I left. It's not much different than when I was a JW, I loved those people too. At the end of the day, I had to make a choice based on how I felt my path to happiness needed to go. It doesn't mean I didn't love them, or my heart doesn't break every day over this.

In the end, I love you, but I'm leaving you anyways.