finality

Party last night was fab - so pleased I stepped through that fear of entering on my own - it was of course fine, some lovely people were there and I got to dance lots.
I'll spare you the details of the mess I returned home to - mainly the dog - but it is the cat I've booked into the vet this morning. Maybe it will be simple but I'm anticipating a difficult decision as to what the best thing to do might be. Ethically I can't justify spending endless money keeping an old pet alive. And yet how harsh does that sound? And of course, she's not just an old pet, she is a much loved part of the family. Sometimes I hate being a grown up.

...
It wasn't massively difficult in terms of making the decision. She was 17 (that's about 119 is cat years). The vet was lovely and gently spelled out options but taking her into animal hospital to give her fluids intraveneously and do tests "if you aren't ready to say goodbye yet" didn't seem the most appropriate. And yet it is also up there (down there?) on the list of hard things to have to do. I was surprised that I couldn't tell the moment that she actually died, there wasn't so much difference between that moment of her still being alive and then the moment when she wasn't - and yet there can't be a bigger difference surely?

I'm v v grateful I didn't have to take her/come back without her on my own. Unfortunate that I now have a length of time by myself but I shall perhaps make good use of my weekend free calls. The final coat of paint has turned out to not be so final after all - but will have to leave that til after church tomorrow to finish.