Since finding out about my grandma being in the hospital on Sunday, I've been pretty emotional. I'm a bit of a crier to start with and this turn of events has not helped. I've been focusing on working, taking care of James and Adam, and going about my everyday life, which has helped me keep my emotions in check. But this morning things came to a head.
I had to take Albert and Mac to the vet. Taking both boys at the same time seemed like such a great idea. I thought to myself when making the appointment, "I'll just knock the visit out, it'll be GRAND!" Cut to me, on the floor of the guest room, crawling under the bunk beds and cursing at the cat. He was hiding from me and I was getting more and more upset. So what did I do?
I screamed and yelled and threw things (namely the cat carrier).
Then I yelled more.
Then I cried.
Then I finally got the cat into the carrier. I threw a towel over him and shoved him into the crate. Take that. Of course that was after I'd disassembled the bottom bunk and moved half of the room. But the cat was in the crate, so close enough.
After that I was pretty proud of myself. I pulled myself together, stopped cried, wiped my sweaty brow and walked outside where I came face to face with my neighbor. My neighbor who probably thought there was a domestic dispute going on in my house. I looked at him sheepishly and asked if he heard me screaming. He said no, he just heard the cat, so I hope he's not lying.
Note to self: freak out less.
On an upside, Albert behaved like a perfect (purrfect) angel for the vet. He is now up to date on his shots and doesn't appear to have an upper respiratory infection like Sassy. Mac received his booster shot from his visit earlier this month and we came back home.
All in a days work.