My really crappy week

8

Actually, it had its high point, that being the inauguration of President Obama and the sight of that big Marine helicopter soaring off with his predecessor. (Oorah!)

Even as we celebrated, though, I spent Inauguration Day watching our gray kitty, Zelda, who suddenly wasn’t doing too well. Polycystic kidneys, the vet told us nearly a year ago. Genetic. Nothing to be done, short of a kidney transplant. But she puttered along just fine until Tuesday.

Then there were copy edits on Immortal Outlaw (copy edits are the ones where you catch typos, punctuation, and grammar errors, along with stupid repeating words). Copy edits aren’t bad. In fact, they’re quite wonderful, especially when you’re lucky enough to get a really good copy editor like I have for the last two books. But they are time consuming. And I had a sick cat, who had to be helped to the litter box and looked worse as the week went on.

But we puttered along.

Then last night, at about 11pm, we got a call from 17.  Someone had hit our car, or rather, MY car, while it was parked in front of his girlfriend’s house.  No one was in it, fortunately. The neighbor kid just backed out without looking, and put his big Ford F150 into the left rear door of my Toyota Camry, turning it into a big flying V with no glass.

So today, when I had intended a leisurely cruise through the last pages of the copy edits, followed by a trip to Kinkos for copying and FedExing,  I  instead spent the morning calling insurance company, car rental agency (17 is going out of town this week to work on a movie set build and needs our other car), and body shop.  And helping Zelda to the litter box.

And realizing that this was the last day to be doing that. She was dehydrated and weak, and hadn’t eaten for two days, despite coaxing and her favorite foods. She could barely walk. Her kidneys were huge and hard. She hurt. And she was never going to get better.

So to top off this  week that started okay but got worse and ended in an especially crappy 24 hours, after I tore through the last of the edits, copied and shipped off the ms, dropped the car at the body shop, and picked up the rental, this evening I had to take sweet, brave Zelda to the vet to have her put down. 

Crappy.  Just crappy.

Here’s a picture from happier times. She loved standing on the chair to look out the back door.

zelda

 

Zelda was a wonderful friend and is much missed by her people and her kitty brother, Clouseau.

I’m going to go cry now.

Lisasigpink

 

 

 

8 Comments


  1. I’m so very sorry for your loss. Kitty Zelda is where she needs to be, but the hole that is left in your heart is big enough to drive that Camry through. What a crappy deal, indeed. It seems like when you have a week like yours, the crap just seems to keep coming. Big, stinky loads of it. It is so very hard to lose a cherished creature friend. If I was there, I’d give you a great big hug. For now, I hope it helps to know that others care very much about your wound. It is so good that we have the ability to end suffering for our animal friends with the loving skill of our local vets. Zelda truly thanks you for your bravery.
    Smile when you remember all her funny antics. Cats are SUCH clowns. I’ll bet you have many wonderful memories of her. Thinking of you–Linda


  2. Lisa, hugs. I know how you must feel. Crap likes to come all at once. It’s like the big bird of paradise has diarrhea.

    I still miss my Yorkie, Arusha, this after many years. She was my mother’s, then when Mom passed, I flew Arusha home in my pocket. She was terrified, shaking in her carrier, and when the stewardess saw her, she just smiled and walked on by. I’ll thank that stewardess forever. Little did I know that Yorkies require so much grooming, and me on a low budget with 3 kids. We learned a lot from each other, Arusha and I.


  3. Lisa:
    So sorry. My boxer mix is managing to seem normal on pain meds, but the day is coming. I cry just thinking about it. Can only imagine how you felt. Sorry for the crappy week.


  4. Ah, Lisa. I’m so very sorry. It’s never easy to let go. Gentle (((hugs))). Love, Deb


  5. Oh, Lisa,
    I’m sorry you have had such a week. I know the car will be fixed and your life will get back to normal, but your sweet kitty will not be there to share it with you. I’m sure you’ve heard — and know — all the platitudes by heart, the kitty is in a better place, not feeling pain, etc., but still there’s that hole in your heart.
    Give yourself a chance to grieve, when the sadness comes, let it. And remember, like in the picture, Zelda is looking for fun, it’s out there somewhere!
    Sherry


  6. (((HUGS))) to you and positive energy to Zelda in her transition across the rainbow bridge. She’s sitting there looking back at you, not wanting you to be sad. Yes, she will always be in your heart, but her physical absence just plain sucks, so cry when you need to and know she cherished her time with you.


  7. It’s been a weepy kind of weekend, but all these kind words are a balm — as are the cuddles from Clouseau.

    He’s definitely noticing his friend’s absence, but we got a new toy to distract him (one of those ball in a track things, but with the motion activated flashing ball (plus a scratch pad in the center). He’s spent literally hours over the past two days batting that ball around aimlessly. Just like I’ve spent hours putzing around on the internet and tweaking the website.


  8. I’m so sorry for the loss of your precious Zelda. It’s never easy to lose family. May your sweet memories of Zelda bring you peace and comfort and know she is in a better place with lots of windows to look through. {{{Hugs}}}

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