Phil the Cat died Thursday at the vets. It has been a very tough week with an emergency vet visit and a diagnosis of lymphoma, a home vet visit for all the cats, and then Thursday seeing that he was not improving despite the steroids and fluids and pain meds he had received. At that point I bundled him up and took him back to the emergency vet and they were very kind. I got to hold him in my arms. I haven't been able to do that with any of the others. I think he was comfortable and ready to go. He and I had had several talks while I lay on the closet floor face-to-face and he wasn't even acting like he wanted to live. My poor baby boy.
Right now I am sweaty and dirty. I planted two rose bushes in the backyard, hoping to get them in and mulched before more rain starts. I did, but it was work. And I am stinky.
So what to do the rest of the day? No plans. Missing Phil. I'm sad, but I'm not bereft. Just don't really want to talk about it with anyone.