I got a chance to do some cooking last night. It was nothing special and I’m sure it tasted likewise. But it was neat, nonetheless, to feel like I was contributing to my family in a way that I enjoy without time restraints. We had a bit of a later dinner and my potatoes/creme of mushroom/shredded cheese was of no great hooplah, but again, it was nice to serve Matt and our little baby with a home-made treat.

I’ve really enjoyed spending time with Matt lately. He was singing Dancing Queen to Dakota the other night. It’s surprising how much life he is able to find in between his sniffles and nose-blowings. That’s right… we’re catching the sick bug around here.

I’ve been thinking a lot about family and have found a new level of “us” in thinking about how to best serve my family. That’s right, this selfish thing is thinking of actually helping out more. Don’t get your hope up too much, world, I’m sure it’ll fade in a week (just teasing).

Thank you to all whom have called to check-up on me and share your love. I am so blessed by all you caring people (Robin, Jenney, Lydia, Renee, Pastor, Aunt Yvonne, Mom, Dad, Amanda, Jes, and anyone else that this clogged mind fails to mention that is no longer going to ever peak to me again for not putting their name in this entry).

Enjoying normalcy as it becomes a new kind of normalcy. Saturday Matt and I get to play chauffeur for Sarah and her boyfriend, Dexter as they travel to their first homecoming dance. I’m excited to get the chance to ride sidesaddle as Matt schmoozes them and parades about. Maybe I can even steal Jenney’s camera and get a few pics of the joy. It still makes me smile to think that Sarah asked Matt to chaperon them and transport them. That’s right… Matt made the cool charts again! (Insert “Dancing Queen” chorus)

Enjoy the weekend all ye people of cyberville. And I hope you all find the joy in normalcy.

God bless.

This morning at 9:30am Cheddar took his last breath as he was put to sleep. My daddy was there with me to give and receive my sweet furry. And while there is a hurt in knowing that his lifeless body awaits his burial when Matt gets home tonight in it’s shoe box, there is this sweet peace that I did all that I could do for him. That we did all that we could do for him.

The house is quite quiet today. But Dakota provides good company, especially for this “not a dog person.” The game of fetch has provided much comfort and her movement about the house has helped me a lot. Makes me want to hug her a little closer sometimes.

I miss him. But there is a strange normalcy in this lack thereof. Seasons are changing. The leaves turning colors and the air a bit crisp today.

The wind welcomes my thoughts as I sit on the rusty rocker outside. Dakota running about the yard. And there has been much to think of, and a few good friends to talk to on the inconsistent volume of our land-line. Grocery shopping to be done. The familiar kicks from inside. And the thoughts of how much these seasons really are changing. And how much they have already changed. I said goodbye to my furry today and have cried a few times missing him. But again there’s this weird reminder that nothing that I expected is anything like I expected. And for the first time in a while I am reminded yet again that I have no idea what spring will bring, not even the consistency of the flowers.

Family has taken on new meaning over the past week. Priorities anew. And there’s this odd feeling of choice in and amongst the chaos.

Seasons are changing. And Dakota and I are going to go outside to watch. What we’re looking for, I’m not sure. But watch we must. For tomorrow it may all be different.

just the words in the title brought a stream of tears. it’s hard to say goodbye to a purr, a meow and a constant game of follow-the-leader. it’s hard to hold his body in your hands and know that you can’t do anything more for him. it’s hard to think of not coming home to the jingle of his bell down the hallway as he runs meowing to greet you. dear friends, this is really hard for me. this is really hard.

matt and i made a very tear-jerking decision today to let go of my cheddar. we can’t do anything more to help him. we can’t do anything more to heal his worn out body. and no more improvements are being made in his health. so with runny nose and tears streaming i will be picking up my kitty, my furry from the vet. i couldn’t possibly live with myself if i had left him there to die in pain when we brought him in for his last diagnosis and examination. so all afternoon the medical staff has been pumping the urine from my kitty for the last time. and they will send home some pain medications which i will administer tomorrow every four to six hours to keep him comfortable as i say goodbye. i really can’t bear to think of not hearing his purr anymore or feeling his sweet little head-butting, begging for a good petting.

and i will be honest, dear friends, this sweet little kitty is going to be very hard for me to let go of. yes, he’s just a pet but that fact doesn’t make this any easier.

matt left for the Michigan funeral today at 3 something. i wanted to go, but i was needed here.

[break for the evening]

the evening went fairly well despite the circumstances. Robin came over for a few hours witnessing Cheddar’s last peak and most movement. we just sat on the couch talking about life. toward the end of her stay Cheddar started to get worse, me realising that he wasn’t blinking. Jenney came over a half hour after Robin. Jenney did well with Cheddar in light of his failing health. we just talked and monitored. and gave pain pills. and talked. and then the vomiting began again. and i knew it was going to be a long night. i prayed that God would just take him then.

at 1am my alarm went off and i gave him another dose of pain meds. his breathing now hard to decipher, his breaths so shallow. but sporadic movement of his head when i sat down with him. i coaxed the med down. i just don’t want him to be in pain in his last few breaths. 5:30am came evidence of more vomiting, attempts to clean him up a bit, more meds, and even shallower breathing. i couldn’t feel his breathing to the touch and yet a surveillance of his body and some movement revealed that he was still a shell of the cat i knew. i counted out the pills and i have enough to get him through tonight after matt comes home around 10-11pm. so he’ll be able to be medicated until thursday morning when we are able to go put him down. i just can’t muster up the strength yet to drive myself there to drop him off without matt. i know i wouldn’t be able to drive home. but the thought has crossed my mind to have a friend drive me.

but really i have hit a point of peace about Cheddar going. each time that i hold his frail body i just pray that he will give up. i want him to be painless. but a fighter he persists. and i’ll keep the 4-5 hour medicine doses until he either gives up or we can get him in to put him to sleep.

today’s going to be a long day. and i really wish matt were here to walk me through it, but i wish him to be at the funeral more. i wish him to be walking his dad through saying goodbye to his dad’s brother more. and i am blessed that despite being apart from him, God is giving me such a peace and a strength during these hard last few hours and this upcoming day. i love how God delivers when we haven’t even asked. and i trust his perfect timing with Cheddar’s departure.

i’m going to go take another nap and again pray that my sweet kitty, my little furry is able to close his eyes without my prompting and go to sleep without intention of waking. i love him so dearly and i just want him to be at rest. that’s best for him right now. and even though i would love for “best” to be defined as a healthy cat, i am not to definer. i am just trying to provide as much comfort as i possibly can.

love you, Cheddar. i have already missed you and i’m sure that’s not going to go away for a while. but i just want you not to have to fight anymore. i did what i thought was best. and what i thought was most humane with what we could do. love you. goodbye.