The false alarm yesterday was no false alarm.

I got a panicked call at 1am from my mother, saying that her cat Daisy couldn't urinate and was straining to try, and I had to talk her down from hysteria... called every vet in town looking for someone that was open, but the few that were didn't open until this morning... so I've spent a night on pins and needles, waiting for a call that she'd died.

One vet that I called, however, at Metrocenter Animal Clinic, called back at 6:30am (on a Sunday morning, yet!) and offered to not only see her, but to make a house call over at my mother's!

The end result is that, unfortunately, my mother's cat has been euthanized. She was 17 years old - a venerable age in cat years - and in all honesty, her kidneys were beginning to fail, she was off her food, a litany of medical problems. This wonderful person, Dr. Leonardo, offered to take her to Metrocenter Clinic and do the procedure there instead of doing it at the house. So... while she's gone now, she at least died comfortably and without pain. That's really all we can ask for, I guess.

My mother isn't doing well - it was the last link to my grandmother that she had - but she will be fine, with time. The grieving process has to be gone through, after all.

(sigh) Everything is okay otherwise. But it's hard. This situation reminds me so much of when Pearl died, and I'm still not fully recovered over that. I don't think I ever will be.

Heh. Tears are close, so I'd best stop for today. I'm okay, though, honestly. These situations are just hard for me to deal with, considering my condition, but I think I've sailed through this particular test.

Thanks for listening.