It's been two hours, twenty five minutes, and seven seconds since I took my Little to the vet and I am climbing the walls. I've cleaned the kitchen, bathroom, laundry room, and living room, washed the bedding and all of Stewey's blankets, organized paperwork, answered emails, paid bills, prayed a rosary, and made a vat of iced tea.
OK...here's the thing. As much as I love to complain about him and pretend that he runs riot over Chez Spinster, the truth of the matter is that this house just isn't home without him in it. Every time I turn around I'm looking for him to be lounging in front of the fireplace or back patio window, or standing by his cookie jar looking at it longingly.
This creature is my life. He is, by far, the very best thing that ever happened to me and I don't think I could love him more if I had given birth to him myself.
Thank you for all of your lovely and supportive thoughts and prayers. For pity's sakes....I am an idiot for thinking that this is a crisis on any level that requires so much attention, but I guess this is me we're talking about, so even the silliest thing turns into a Lifetime Television for Women movie of the week.
I'll keep you posted once the patient is home.
Thank you again, dear friends, for your loving kindness!