Once upon a time, I was a very proud owner of four cats. They were my babies, they were my companions, they were treated very well.
Duzee, we'll miss you
I’d like to say that trend continued after Monkey was born but it’s just not true. I had a hard time adjusting to life as a mommy and my cat “mommy” duties gradually fell to the wayside. Captain and Tennille were the first victims of this downward turn. Now Duzee will be. Tomorrow I will have the very difficult task of putting her to sleep.
She now weighs 3.8 pounds because of her hyperthyroidism. I’d like to say I faithfully gave her the medicine every day but that’s just not true. And I feel horrible about that. She is very frail, has a hard time walking and barely eats. It’s time to say the least. And now I’m wondering if I selfishly hung onto her too long.
Truth is, I should have given the cats away before Monkey was born. I thought I could handle it all but I can barely remember to take my own medicine and Monkey is the number one priority, of course, so that left the cats low on the priority list.
So tonight, Duzee gets to sleep upstairs with us. The first time since a couple months before Monkey was born. And as I type this guilt-laden post, she sits beside me asleep. The vet said to spend as much time with her as I could before tomorrow. I just feel horrible.
I’m so sorry Duzee. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better by you.
My office has (yet again this year) had a slew of pregnancies. In fact, many of my close friends are either pregnant or have had a child recently (BTW, congrats to Caramama!). And I still am asked at least once a week by someone either at work or elsewhere, “When’s number two coming along?” And with the 12 pounds I’ve put on recently, I almost feel like saying “Oh about 6 months” just to shock them a little. (And NO, it’s just regular FAT, not preggo fat. Something I’m not too happy about.)
