The Butcher’s wedding looms. They’re trying to do a low-key thing, like afternoon wedding with cake and punch afterwards. It’s like they’ve never met our family, which should make the wedding super awkward, with all these opinionated strangers standing around.
I told the kids this weekend that I was going to be their step-aunt. They were more excited about having step-cats. Which, you know, fair enough.
I’m really happy for the Butcher and kind of excited to have the house to myself. And I’m sure it will also be lonely, but man, the dryer will be empty whenever I go to use it.
I think I’m going to win the cat argument, but it’s kind of a bummer because I think the reason I’m going to win it is that it’s sinking in to the Butcher how old the cat is. He didn’t get up to walk with us this morning and didn’t get up to get breakfast. He’s still asleep in the Butcher’s room as we speak.
Oh, god, I hope he’s not dead. Ha ha. I mean, I’m sure the Butcher checked before he left.
Our elderly cat sleeps a lot (for a cat even) so I’m right there with you on the is it sleeping or is it dead checks. But, hurray for the Butcher’s wedding and step-cats and step-aunts!
He was alive when I left! I hope he does go quietly because getting him to the vet is a nightmare.
Yeah, I’d like for our cat’s last hours not to be the epic battle of getting her in the carrier to go to the vet but in my pessimistic optimism I figure if she didn’t bite us more than once in the process we’d know it’s time. Our vet thinks she’s part Norwegian Forest Cat so I picture her wanting a good viking death but I don’t know what that is for a pampered house cat.
She’s spending the morning sleeping in a pile of the kid’s stuffed animals and growling at the less elderly cat when it tries to join her so I figure we’ve still got plenty of time to let her figure that out.