So yesterday morning, my mom took my childhood cat, Oreo, to the vet's to be put to sleep. Oreo was old, and dying, and no longer enjoying any real quality of life, so no one get all defensive or anything. I am simultaneously more and less upset than I thought I would be. On the one hand, she was really old. When I went home last time, I pretty much knew she wasn't going to make it to Christmas. So it's not like a surprise or anything. And I've only seen her like once or twice a year anyways, so she hasn't really played a major role in my life for the past like 7 years.
On the other hand, she was a good cat. I remember going to pick her up. We were in our old Subaru and she ran under the seats. I remember trying to name her (it was between Oreo and Socks; yes, we weren't very creative.), and her playing with wrapping paper at Christmas and her sleeping on my bed or giving my brother fleas... It won't quite be the same going home and not seeing her. Not hearing her and Felix fight. I wonder if Felix will be lonely now? So Oreo, I hope you are in kitty heaven (I'm not Catholic, I can believe in pet heaven if I want to), with lots of tuna fish and comfy chairs.
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