She gave us a scare, yesterday. Life with a cat wouldn't be life with a cat if they didn't give you the absolute horrors for their continued well-being at least once a week. After a month of generally sitting around and not doing very much, Shellebelle decided to wander off for a majority of the day.
Naturally, I feared that I'd never find her again. Mayhem and I took to wandering around the house and yard, trying to spot her. Trying to call her back in.
Night came. Still no cat. We closed up for the evening, lest the B52 Mosquito Wing Command come in to eat us alive. I cried a lot.
Mayhem turned on the patio lights and there she was, looking for her chicken hearts as if it were yet another day. She fell asleep in the computer room and I didn't get to be her butt-warmer at all, last night.
I'm making up for that, today.
My lap is currently full of purring, happy, smelly, doomed cat. She's going to have every luxury we can give her. Because I know she's not going to like the last trip I give her. And she's not coming home from that.
I feel like the worst betrayer in the world.
I can't focus on the good times gone, because the bad time coming is a wall between that and me. We had all this fun, we had all those good times, and now I'm going to kill you. And it's sick that I've been wishing for her to die naturally so that I don't have to do this.
This is not the hardest thing I've had to do, but it is the worst.