A part of me is numb right now. Sunday before last, around 2am, I drove Mitzie to the emergency vet in Rancho Cordova and said my final goodbyes. I didn't want to take her out of the house, but I also knew that I couldn't wait any longer - she was miserable and there wasn't anything I or anyone else could do to make her feel better. It felt like exactly the right thing to do at that moment, and I felt strangely calm and purposeful as I loaded her into the car and drove past familiar landmarks in the dark on the way to the vet. The entire process took about an hour. She was definitely ready to go - she calmly sat on my lap as we waited for the vet, and didn't struggle at all, thankfully.
I got home around 3:30 am. I cried all day and couldn't eat or sleep. Since then, things have gotten a bit better, but I miss her every time I come home and I wish she could have died peacefully in her sleep rather than feeling so crummy. I've lost the affection for other cats that I've had all my life, too, which makes me a little sad. I suppose its a testament to Mitzie that I don't want to be around other cats - she was a very special little feline.