Date: 1/18/23
Training Week: 1
Time: 30 min (walking)
Mobility/Stretching: No
Ate Well: Yes, but I had a fat cup of hot cocoa with whipped cream to console myself

Commentary: Tuesday, there were come complications during my second class, which led to me waiting THREE HOURS for data to download and unzip. I didn’t get home until 6:30pm. The idea of stuffing a few morsels of food in my face and then going to bed did not sound like a good way to round out the day. So, I stayed up and watched Sing Street with my husband.

As always (well, most of the time), I read before bed. Of course the chapter of my murder mystery I read talked about snakes. Lots of snakes. Live snakes. Dead, rotting snakes. Venomous snakes with descriptions of their nasty, creepy heads. “Harmless” snakes. Snakes. Snakes. Snakes. I hate snakes. I won’t kill one because, like me, they’re just trying to survive. Because of my ridiculous fear of snakes, I knew what I just read would give me bad dreams.

My wonderful and amazing husband came to bed and snuggled me and told me cute stories about the animal videos he’d seen on Instagram. With visions of laughing donkeys, a cat riding in a wagon pulled by a dog, and floofy cats dancing around in my head, I finally went to sleep.

Again, I woke up Wednesday morning feeling totally rested. Even my watch said my sleep was excellent. The bags under my eyes still haven’t gotten the message, but who cares. Me? I mean, I keep bringing them up… I woke up with just enough time to get to work because I stayed up later than usual last night. The plan was to come home after my virtual training was done around lunch, do my run, and work from home the rest of the day.

Lately, Oreo hasn’t been grooming, has been drinking even more water than usual, and her appetite has increased. Yesterday morning, my husband took her to the vet. They did some blood work and whatnot, and he told me he’d fill me in when I got home. When I came home at lunch, my husband told me the bad news.

Oreo likely has a tumor in her thyroid, and possibly a minor internal bleed somewhere. The tumor is so small the vet couldn’t feel it, and they prescribed medication for it. They’re not 100% sure about the bleed, they just said she seemed a little anemic. The vet said she probably only had a couple of years left. My husband held me while I bawled my eyes out.

I know Oreo is old for a cat. I know she’s had a good life, especially these past few years. And I know a couple more years is still a long time. But she is my baby. She was supposed to live for at least another decade because I love her so much. We’re so alike for her being a cat and me being a human. I can’t imagine my life without her. I can’t imagine adventuring in the van without her. She’s helped me get through two divorces and multiple hard times. What am I supposed to do without her? There will never be another cat like her. Not that I want there to be.

All I can do is make the most of the years we have left. And contact a homeopathic pet doctor to see they can do.

Question of the Day: Have you ever gotten bad news about your fur baby? Please share with me how you dealt with it.

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