Let's see, where to start.
We had to put our cat down. She had a tumor in her chin we didn't know about and by the time it presented itself, it was too late. We had the option to bring her home with pain medication until she couldn't eat anymore or to put her down.
No offense, the idea of waiting for her to stop eating just seemed rather morbid. I'd rather she be happy in kitty heaven than here with me in pain.
But here's the thing. I've had her for almost 13 years. I keep thinking I see her in the house. She was a constant presence and I really do miss her.
Telling Little Man was the hardest (well, no, holding her as she died was the hardest). He cried very hard and told me how he wanted her back and missed her and it just broke my fucking heart all over again.
I'm from the school of being upfront with them, obviously there are somethings we shield them from, but a pet dying is part of life and part of owning a pet. so there you go.
My MIL has breast cancer again. It's the same kind, in the same breast, so she will have a mastectomy this time. Fun, fucking times, let me tell you.
I struggled with that one as I've know it was a possibility since Monday (FIL had a moment of verbal diarrhea and told me) and my MIL asked me not to tell Gumby. I tell him most everything, but I respected her wishes.
Which for anyone that knows me, knows that's near-fucking-impossible. She got the biopsy results yesterday and I obviously didn't want to tell him before his Winter Ball (a work function) and afterwards was much too late to deal with such heaviness.
So today was a bit brutal for the family. Gumby ended up vomiting (I'm thinking the big 'ol t-bone steak did not help that cause). I'm still working on an upset stomach.
I watched the new episode of The Office tonight and almost died. Also watched last week's SNL with Neil Patrick Harris (who, was on Sesame Street this past week as the Shoe Fairy and I almost peed my pants).