The last 24 hours have been complex and rough. Yesterday morning I told my daughter by email (because she was either in class or was asleep) that I was going to take the cat to be euthanized. I told my son at breakfast that I had decided to do this, but I didn't say when. After taking him to school I decided that I needed to do it then, because the cat was due another IV treatment and it was such an awful thing for him. If we did it twice a week he would have a couple of good days and then a day or two of loud whining meowing. I couldn't stand it and he wasn't happy, so I loaded the cat, the extra food, litter, and the unused IV bag and took them all down the the Humane Society. I didn't bring him home to bury--I did with the cat last year, but I don't think that made anyone feel better, I think that just dragged it out longer. But what I saw that time was that in death she looked like her "old self," something she hadn't experienced for months. And it was going to be the same with this one.

So I've been clearing out the cat box (for the first time in weeks my laundry room and kitchen don't smell like the acrid diarrhea smell of a sick cat, and even if he had buried it, it was so strong I was scooping several times a day) and vacuuming and washing hairy rugs and towels. I'll dismantle cat window seats and remove trunks and boxes that have been human tripping hazards that were put in place so this old cat could get up on the bed and up on window seats and chairs.

I'm out of the cat business. All things considered, the last two years of cats have been expensive and miserable. In both cases we probably kept the cat alive longer than we should, because no one was happy with the way they felt. And all of this time, the dogs have been second class citizens, rarely coming in the house and only after an elaborate roundup to get the cats out of the way.

I can now again have houseplants that the cats won't destroy or poison themselves with. I can start my spring seeds in the window without them stepping on, peeing on, or eating them. I can leave clothing out and not have it covered in cat hair. I won't get bit if I step on a tail. I can just open a window to let in fresh air and not check to be sure it is not open so far a cat won't get out or that the screen is sturdy enough to keep them in.

I will miss the companionship of young healthy cats, and their playful antics, but it has been so long since I've seen those that this break is welcome. The last two years I've been a hostage to my own decisions to keep these animals, so I actually feel liberated in a sad sort of way.

My son came in yesterday and I hadn't said anything when I picked him up after school because I didn't want to make his guitar lesson difficult to get through. He saw the changes immediately (I'd taken down the barrier into the front room with the carpet--we can finally go in there without moving this thing out of the way that was up to keep cats from peeing in the corners) and I simply told him I took the cat down that day. He hasn't spoken to me since and I gave him dinner in his room. I'm going to have to write a blog examining the life and decline of pets, and post some happy expressions and the late-in-life expressions when they won't meet your eyes and just want to sleep or crawl into a corner to die. I'll have to let him discover this to understand, because he doesn't want to hear what I have to tell him in so many spoken words.

All of this makes rebuilding the computer seem tame by comparison. I found all of my old files, so I'm set.

SRS