#100BM Day 84
The first day in 14 1/2 years without a cat is going as well as could be expected. Well-wishes continue to come in, I have managed to find joy in ridiculousness on the internet, but every little noise in the house makes me look up and look for my furry friend, and I am still bursting into tears at regular intervals and getting very little done in general.
And, of course, I find myself having though hindsight-y, unhelpful realisations and regrets. I wish I had asked the vet to more thoroughly investigate Hamish’s overgrooming his belly last fall, rather than just accepting the ‘probably stress’ diagnosis. I wish I had paid attention when other cats in the neighbourhood would walk right up to him, or stare at him for long stretches of time from afar, over the last few months, without showing any signs of aggression (which would have been the case last, and every other, year). I wish I hadn’t just thought weight loss and pickiness were symptoms of the old man getting to 84 cat years and being a stubborn little shit; hyperthyroidism wasn’t (just) it. He probably was pretty sick for quite a while and I just didn’t (want to) see it.
But I cannot focus on the past. If I found out he had cancer (which now seems likely) months ago, I have no idea if I would have been emotionally (or financially) able to put him through aggressive treatment. Maybe this was better, despite the last few weeks. I don’t know. I won’t know. But I am sad that I probably could have done (even) better by one of the world’s great spoiled beasties.
Making a batch of chili and going to pub quiz today. I think non-cat routine stuff will do me some good. I will try not to tear-stain either too badly.