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Brave soldier

I do not know how I made it to today. I do not know how I made myself go to work this afternoon; I hated leaving my kitty to go to work this afternoon. I said to myself, if I live through this, if I make it through this day, everything else will be cake.

The irony is, in today's quality report, the 5:00pm show producer gave me tons of kudos for my contribution to the product today! I guess I just made myself concentrate so I could get to my dinner break, so I could get back home to Pasha, make sure she's doing okay. I didn't even realize I was going above and beyond the call of duty; I was just doing my job. It was a nice feeling to read that today, in the quality report. It was nice to be noticed, and to be recognized.

Well... one piece of the puzzle is finished, *finally*. Pasha is home from her adventure at the vet, safe and sound. She is doing quite well, I'm happy to report!!! :) I cannot begin to say how profoundly relieved I am to have this monkey off my back. No more heat periods for Pasha. My living space can now return to a more livable kind of space, worthy of having other human beings in. Now, the cleanup can begin in earnest, which is precisely what I did today -- start the cleanup.

My boss agreed to let me come in late today, which was awful darn nice of him. This allowed me to not only keep an eye on Pasha to make sure she's not trying to jump up to her usual perches, or licking the sutures, but also to get a head start on the cleanup. It might seem strange... but you, dear reader, have absolutely no idea how agonizing it's been to have to live in a space surrounded by feline urine markings for nearly two years, because you can't afford to take your cat to the vet for spay surgery. It's in all the furniture (except my bedroom, which neither cat has access to), and a couple of inconsequential cardboard boxes. Filling the bucket with hot water, Tide, and Oxyclean, and spending two and a half hours scrubbing the floors, trim and walls in the living room and the kitchen was more cathartic than I can say. I replaced those cardboard boxes. Finally... finally.

Not only that, but it seemed downright Providential that, while sitting in the waiting room yesterday morning with Pasha on my lap, I spied an article in Cat Fancy magazine touting *NEW* cleaning materials -- specifically for removing the odors I've lived with for so long. One item, "Urine Off", is only sold to "professionals", but you better believe I'm going to get my hands on that stuff if I have to hold someone hostage for it!!!

But this isn't all just about me. It has been so hard to witness Pasha enduring those interminable heat periods, with the yowling and Lord knows what else she was going through. I know that I freed her from that frustration, and at the same time removed her chances of getting uterine infection or worse, uterine cancer. The spay will also drastically reduce her chance of getting mammary cancer, which I didn't know. Not to mention *NO* unwanted pregnancies, no going through trying to pawn off kittens on someone, anyone. Of course, that wasn't really a worry seeing as both cats stay 100% indoors. Bottom line is, nothing but good, good, good can come of this surgery. Everybody will be happy, and that is a very good thing.

I'm just glad to have my pal at home again. People who are not 'cat people', or people who are not 'animal people' couldn't possibly understand this, and it's too bad, because cats are really great friends to have. Especially my cats. :) It's particularly difficult to go through a time like this, because those cats literally saved my life last summer, when my depression was at it's absolute worst. I'd gone from merely thinking about killing myself to actually starting to carry out the deed. August, 2003 was pretty forgettable as far as memories go. You know what stopped me? I happened to glance down at my cats who happened to be sitting on the couch next to me, and it was like a light went on in my gloom and doom. I'd been so wrapped up in how I would end my life that I didn't even notice my cats sitting next to me until I actually turned my head and looked at them.

And they just looked back at me.

And I thought...; wait a minute. Wait a minute... if I'm dead, who's going to take care of... nobody knows these cats like I do!... how will they feel if I go from being alive to being dead?... it's not fair to them to leave them with my cold, lifeless body, they have no way of calling for help...

...and that's how my cats saved my life. So yes, they're very important to me. They're more than companions; they are my friends.

Of course, I know they don't understand what I was going through, and 99% of what goes through my head, they have no comprehension of whatsoever. The only thing that's important to me is, they miss me when I'm gone. That's all I ever wanted, really.

Okay, on to the next item on the agenda...

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