It's been really hard lately to do much of anything.
My Cutie, best friend of almost 20 years, has gone. He isn't suffering anymore, and for that I am glad, but I am utterly distraught. He was the most gentle and loving cat in the world, and he admirably tolerated such things as my childhood, a mother who chewed off his whiskers, and having to get shots in his eyes. There were many times when we thought the end was close, but he pulled through and outlived any of our expectations.
I think it was about three years ago that Rachel was home alone with him (Mom and Dad were visiting family, and I was in Austin taking a summer class), when he took a very bad turn and she took him to the vet to be told that he had a tumor, and wouldn't last long, so she should take him home and spoil him. At his age, he had little chance of surviving cancer treatment and even if he did, his quality of life would greatly decrease. It wasn't worth it. So we spoiled him, and he stuck around for it longer than we thought he would. Every day with him was a gift.
I've finished the knitting on my Market Squares bag, and that seems like such a worthless accomplishment.
But I think it's good, in my grieving, to keep on doing productive things instead of hiding under my covers all day and wishing I were dead too, so I'm trying.