Should I Laugh Or Cry
UPDATE: JORDAN HAS BEEN RETURNED HOME SAFELY!
Crapticity has been rearing it's ugly little head all over the place. First and foremost. Kim, a blogging buddy of mine has a major crisis. Her son has been kidnapped by his non-custodial mother. Long story, but really bad news. Please see her blog for details, send her well wishes and keep your eyeballs out for the little one. Looks like they may be headed for Florida from the Ohio area.
In other bad news, 17-year-old Guido the Killer Cat From Hell, had to be put to sleep. I knew it was coming. I just didn't know it would make me so sad. He hadn't been walking very well, hadn't been making it to his litter box, kept forgetting to eat and drink and had been crying a pathetic meow for a few days, like he was in pain.
I asked Mr. Lane to take us so I could hold him one last time in the car. I wrapped him in his favorite blanket. I felt okay. A little sad, but I knew he wasn't living the quality life he was accustomed to.
When we got to the vet's office, I changed my mind. I told my old man, "I can keep cleaning up after him. I can bathe him a couple times a day if he needs it. I can get him some pain meds and he won't be hurting. He shouldn't be put down. Let's leave."
Mr. Lane, macho guy that he is, called my mother. I don't know if he was telling on me or trying to talk sense into me. He put her on speaker phone and she said through tears, "Lo, you know he needs this. You've given him lots of love and care. It's time."
I wanted to smack that fucker with the phone for calling her. And I wanted to tell her to shut her stupid pie hole and then run out of the vet's office with that old cat. Yes, I am able to laugh about how I reacted now, thankyouverymuch. Who knew I would lose my fucking mind?
Mr. Lane does have a sympathetic bone, and right after he called my mommy and told on me, he showed that better side of him. He leaned in, gave Guido a little scratch on his neck and then stood quietly rubbing my back while Doctor Death did the deed. On the way back to the car, I held the empty blanket and started to cry. My old man hugged me for what seemed like an hour in that parking lot. When we came out of the embrace, I could see he had teared up a little too. But being the macho guy he is, he said, "Oh, honey, I drooled on your shirt. Guess I dosed off a bit."
"Drool, riiight. Oh, and honey? I'm sorry I cried and snotted all over your shirt." I smiled, he gagged and we headed back home.
I was barely home 15 minutes and my mother was calling. Guido was my mom's cat. He only came to live with me about eight months ago. She had to move and couldn't keep him. I assumed she was sad too and just needed to talk.
After the initial sad stuff was said, Mom thought she would cheer me up by calling me "C.K." short for cat killer.
"Um, Mom? That won't be funny for at least a week."
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry. I was just trying to get a laugh out of you. I'll mark it down in the calendar to try again next week."
"Thanks for understanding Mom."
As we were talking, I was cleaning litter boxes, removing all of Guido's things and washing food and water dishes. As I poured the fresh food in, my mom heard all of the noise and said, "My goodness! What are you doing?"
"I'm feeding the other cats." After a long pause, I said, "No sense in taking them all out in one day."
"Hahaha! That's my girl!"
Laughter really is the best medicine.