I'm close to tears, berating myself slightly for feeling this way.
Balin and I are the in vet's office, conversing with Sly's doctor. He's saying that she's going to need two of her teeth removed because the enamel is so worn. "It's become painful for her," he explained.
"Your baby's also lost a lot of weight compared to last year. That's like us losing 25 or 30 pounds in a year," he continued.
Before performing the surgery, he wanted to check her urine and her blood - just to make sure that she didn't have any other issues. I agreed.
Tuesday night, the vet called us back. The results were surprising, he told Robinson. Worst case, there is a possibility she has cancer. Would we allow him to take an x-ray before he performs the surgery in order to assess the situation?
The surgery is supposed to happen Friday morning. A part of me is in knots; after all, she's my first pet that's actually belonged to me. She was bought for me, on my birthday. She's my baby.
A part of me also knows that life is what you make of it. Aside from the boys, I hope Sly thinks she had a pretty good life, that she knows she is loved. She still sleeps with us, usually nestled in between Robinson and I, under the covers. Now that she's older, she's much more affectionate; jumping onto my lap or sitting next to me on the bed or sofa.
This cat has been a part of the family since almost the beginning. As the only creature in the house as small as they were, they loved - and still love - to chase her. (She rarely returns their affection.)
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this, only that mortality is a difficult thing to process.
But I shouldn't be grieving, not yet.
Blessed be.
Balin and I are the in vet's office, conversing with Sly's doctor. He's saying that she's going to need two of her teeth removed because the enamel is so worn. "It's become painful for her," he explained.
"Your baby's also lost a lot of weight compared to last year. That's like us losing 25 or 30 pounds in a year," he continued.
Before performing the surgery, he wanted to check her urine and her blood - just to make sure that she didn't have any other issues. I agreed.
Tuesday night, the vet called us back. The results were surprising, he told Robinson. Worst case, there is a possibility she has cancer. Would we allow him to take an x-ray before he performs the surgery in order to assess the situation?
The surgery is supposed to happen Friday morning. A part of me is in knots; after all, she's my first pet that's actually belonged to me. She was bought for me, on my birthday. She's my baby.
A part of me also knows that life is what you make of it. Aside from the boys, I hope Sly thinks she had a pretty good life, that she knows she is loved. She still sleeps with us, usually nestled in between Robinson and I, under the covers. Now that she's older, she's much more affectionate; jumping onto my lap or sitting next to me on the bed or sofa.
This cat has been a part of the family since almost the beginning. As the only creature in the house as small as they were, they loved - and still love - to chase her. (She rarely returns their affection.)
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this, only that mortality is a difficult thing to process.
But I shouldn't be grieving, not yet.
Blessed be.
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