Not a good day. Not at all.
Last night I had my two remaining cats put dow... no, I didn't have them put down, I didn't have them put to sleep. I had them killed. Why try to make it sound nicer than it is? Why use euphemism? I made the decision to have my cats killed. OK, we made the decision Mr. Jazz and I. A long time ago, probably 4-5 months back, but it took us all this time to actually work up the nerve to go through with it.
There are numerous reasons, good reasons (or bad, depending on your view of things). They were old and sick and we didn't have the hundreds and hundreds of dollars required to postpone the inevitable. So, after postponing the inevitable a few months we went and did it.
And now it's done. And I have no more cats. This is the fourth time the decision was taken, but it's by far the worst. This time there were no more cats to cuddle when I got home. This time I'm officially catless for the first time in 18 years since Mr. Jazz and I got together. This time it hurts so damn much more. These two I had raised from the moment they were weaned.
I had never had animals before hooking up with him, though I absolutely loved them. Mom didn't want pets and when I left home, my schedule didn't permit, then the boyfriend was allegic...
This morning I kept looking for them, I went to feed them, I missed the morning cuddle... it sucks. It so desperately sucks.