I'm actually glad it's Monday. . .

After a horrible weekend, I'm actually glad it's Monday. C came home Friday night, after a much needed night out with "the guys," to discover our cat Minnie was having trouble breathing. After waking me up to consult and making a few frantic phone calls, he took her to the university's vet school, which has emergency hours. On Saturday morning, we spoke with the vet who was treating her; the news was not good. Our sweet little girl has advanced heart disease, and while it is treatable, she isn't expected to live more than a year. She is only 2 1/2 years old. We're both devastated.

We adopted her long before we decided to have children, so in some ways, we think of her as our oldest child. She also has a genetic deformity in her front legs called "curvus radius," which makes her look like a bulldog. She has had a hard time walking since she was full grown, but she has always been an active, lovable cat. Truth be told, she hasn't responded well to S because she prefers to initiate playtime rather than to have an 8-month-old crawl after her, but she still sought C and I out for lots of attention. I feel confident that she will receive the best possible care with this vet (and I feel incredibly lucky to attend this university--we have access to some of the best veterinary care in the country), but I'm heartbroken. We both spent most of Saturday evening in a daze, and when we brought her home yesterday, we both kept checking on her incessantly. C even got up several times in the night to check on her.

On top of this, C leaves tomorrow for his dissertation defense, and his advisor has already told him he should expect to make substantial editorial changes (have I ever mentioned how much I hate this woman?). I have to handle teaching, taking care of S, and getting Minnie back to the vet on Thursday for a recheck. When I called to make her appointment with the cardiologist this morning, I was told that I was being worked in, so I should expect to be there all day long. The appointment time is in the morning, about an hour before I go and nurse S at school, so I have no idea what I'm going to do about that. I don't feel comfortable asking someone to take Minnie to the vet for me, but I don't want S to miss the nursing session either, as I'm afraid that may throw his entire day off. I've decided to cancel my class, so that is one less thing I have to worry about. I really just want to rewind and make Minnie better.

I know there are people who will disagree with me and those out there (my mother among them) who will question going this far for "an animal," but she is so much more than a pet to us. We refer to her and our other cat as S's "older sisters,." A bit weird, I know, but we constantly tell him to "play nice" with his sisters. I do think of these two girls as my babies. We adopted her at a time when we were both beginning to think about having children, and shortly after we got her, my biological clock went into overdrive. She became the baby we didn't have yet, and when we adopted a second cat, we felt like a family. I was antsy all day Saturday because I knew she was in a strange place being poked and prodded; we went to see her for a few minutes, and I felt horrible leaving her. I wanted to be with her, much like I would want to be with S if he was in the hospital. I just wish I could make her better.