The Times, They are a Changin’

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I spent the first week of January on the amazing, beautiful island of Jamaica. It was easily one of the best things I have done for myself in years, and the fact that I was able to come back feeling relaxed and refreshed reminded me that I need to take better care of myself.

Sadly, my week back after vacation was less than stellar. When I got home on Sunday, I noticed the cat I rescued in June was behaving oddly. I made plans to take him into the vet on Monday after work, hoping he was maybe just adjusting to my being away for a week. Late afternoon, I met with my supervisors and learned that my current position at work is being eliminated. While I do have several options, and am not completely high and dry, it was a truly sad, and disappointing bit of news to hear. I love my job, and the organization I work for, so feeling suddenly thrust into a position where I may need to leave, and start over again somewhere new was scary, and stressful.

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I had a bit of an emotional drive home to pick up Chance, and bring him to the vet nearest our house. It was there that things began to get progressively worse. When I found Chance, he was nearly starved to death, incredibly dehydrated, and had several wounds from living under our house and on the street for the better part of a year and a half. I learned after bringing him to the vet just after finding him that he was FIV positive, but over the last eight months he’d been doing very well. We had even brought him inside permanently, and he was fattening up, and learning the ways of indoor kitties.

Unfortunately, the vet was able to determine that, likely due to progressive FIV, Chance was in very bad shape. There was a possibility of hospitalization and blood transfusions, but after running another test, the vet realized his likelihood of surviving  and also of his future quality of life. I made the very difficult decision to have Chance put to sleep to end his pain. It was incredibly sad, but he went peacefully, purring on my lap. I am so happy to have given him 8 months of a loving home. I’m still very sad, and I miss him and his sweet little face.

When I got home, I stood in our living room and had a good, long, ugly cry that frightened Pickles and the girls – who all stared at me from the couch.

The rest of the week definitely felt like a bit of an overwhelming emotional rollercoaster. I do have some prospects, and as each day passes feel a little less terrified, but, change that is forced on you is scary. I guess 2016 isn’t going to be the year of being comfortable.

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