As much as we called her the "brat cat," Muchie was really sweet. I don't remember ever losing a pet growing up... mostly because we didn't have anything. Never really had to deal with it.... let alone seeing Munchie lying there on the vet's table, under anesthesia, and we're saying goodbye to her. I just sorta shut down my emotions, because I had to drive home, drop Dee off, and then go to work.
I had just hoped that somehow this would turn out to be something minor, that Munchie would be fine and still be here with us. But when the vet told us that Dee's fears were right, I just couldn't believe that the carrier was going to come home empty. I feel like I've been avoiding it, but tonight it feels like it's really eating at my skin.
I don't want to be a sad person, but I don't want to be the zombie I feel like I've been the past two days.