it never does.
truly, his breath could knock over small children, strip paint, take the rust off your engine block, make grown men weep. and what's one of his favorite things to do when he jumps up in my lap?
right. lick my face.
*cough* um... yuck. if only i could get him to floss...
and each year, he's a little older, and less able to deal with the anaesthesia. it takes him longer to come back from the surgery. given the current state of things, this freaks me out to no end.
i'm sitting at home, on the couch, watching TV, with no cat to sit in my lap. stanz is in the other room, being small and sad. since the vet shaved her butt (to get rid of some snarls, and i know it feels better, but...) and her neck (to get blood samples), she looks frail. she's lost so much weight. i'm used to her sitting on the arm of the couch, right by my head. and strat is usually in my lap, or trying to bat stanz out of her spot (not that he wants it, he just doesn't want her to have it). he's staying at the vet's overnight, to let him come out of the anaesthesia in a protected space.
i'm sitting here, alone.
i'm sitting on the couch, desperately wishing i could dial back time just a few weeks, so instead of swatting my cats out of the way in order to deal with bills, i could give them hugs and scratchies. i want all that time with my kitties back.
i feel like i'm going to break apart, that i'm already falling because pieces of me are missing.
i don't like being cat-less.