Good Grief, What a Week

It has taken me the weekend to process all that happened. Maybe this is that crashing wave I dreamed about.

I was ecstatic on Tuesday because I received the Johnson & Johnson Covid-19 vaccine, authorized by my doctor's certificate of medical vulnerability. The FEMA site was superbly efficient, everyone was polite and helpful, and a sense of euphoria was in the air among those of us in line. About 8 hours later, the vaccine knocked me right down with body aches and chills, but I recovered after a few hours. 

I felt good on Wednesday because the painters came to my under-repair house and worked their magic. My walls are now a fresh cream color (same color as before) and my kitchen is a lovely yellow. My first attempt at yellow 2 years ago turned out to be too harsh and too dark. This yellow is much more successful. It's paler, more gold than mustard, but still packs plenty of oomph. And I do love a yellow kitchen. 

I was hopeful and then heartbroken on Thursday when I received a call from Animal Control. The officer said they had found Missy -- but she was badly injured and in very poor condition. I drove there immediately. He recommended euthanizing her; in fact, he practically insisted on it. Right or wrong, I didn't want her last moments to occur in that kennel setting, all loud noises and hard surfaces. Somehow I convinced him to let me take her for a second opinion, and I drove her to the nearest emergency vet, who confirmed that her injuries were too serious. It would have been torture to even try to repair them. 

They brought her to me wrapped in a blanket, and she was purring. We had some private minutes while I reminisced about all our years together. I don't know if she knew it was me, but she knew someone was there, and it was peaceful, and she was safe and loved at the last.

Missy in better times