It’s funny how different things will affect us emotionally. I remember that when I was a kid I wouldn’t cry if a relative died, but losing my lunchbox would easily reduce me to tears (those are real examples that John could possibly verify).
I just found out that my parents are going to put the cat to sleep this afternoon. She’s certainly old and feeble enough—she’s 19 and has terrible arthritis. It’s not like I saw her much anyway, since we don’t live there, but it still affects me, like a piece of my childhood will be gone forever. After all, I was 8 when we got her. And it makes me sad that when we take Sam over there, he’ll ask to see the cat and we’ll have to come up with an explanation of where she is, trying not to break a two-year-old’s heart.
Rest in peace, Lightning. (Yes, we had two cats: Thunder and Lightning. It made for some interesting experiences standing at the back fence calling them home. I think our neighbors thought we were practicing some sort of weather-control witchcraft.)