My grandmother's cat died the day before yesterday. She started out with two and they both got to be 16 years old. The Boy Cat (she never named them: they were just Boy Cat and Girl Cat) died a few months back. Girl Cat died Saturday.
Grammie lives alone across town and animals have always been her thing. She has a few friends--mostly her across-the-hall neighbour--but mostly she spent time talking with her cats in her little senior-living apartment. Having both of them gone is a huge loss.
Last night she was crying so much she got a headache, so she took Tylenol. Then she was crying so much she couldn't sleep, so she took Tylenol PM. Seems she then had too much in her system as she got poorly; Mum took her to the Emergency Room today. Grammie's back here now and has taken one of my melatonin pills to sleep.
The same day as she cat, my father finally heard back from the company he's been doing free-lance work for; the guy he answers to had been a bit slimy in requesting him to come down, or save dates, or do work, but then having that fall through. The news finally came through that the company is "changing direction", and so Da's main client won't need his services as they have. It's sad in that he's been comfortable with it, and certainly glad to have an income he was used to again (he loves buying electronic do-dads), but he's also turned down other potential clients out of how much of his time went to this company. Now it's a case of chasing them down and just networking in general again. We have every faith in him, and for the most part we Crocus Lot are over Christmas being a big shiny holiday, so if the gift-giving is leaner this year it won't be a loss (that's not really the spirit of the time after all, is it?). Unfortunately, that knowledge won't help him with his guilt about it anyway--he loves providing fun stuff for his family and spoiling us with whatever we don't actually need.
I usually try not to post blatantly bad-news posts, I'm not sure why, but I'm posting this one more in honour of those around me hurting. I'm not so worried about my Grammie's health, but definitely her heart: keep her in mind/heart?
ETA (tmi warning): Now I'm worried. Turns out Mum wasn't able to get Grammie to the ER; Grammie refused and said she wanted to come back to our place and sleep, which she wouldn't be able to do at the ER. But she's got bloody stool and, while it could be something more normal like a hemorrhoid, of course the doctor my mother called said get her to the ER anyway. Mum didn't see the sample or call until Grammie had already firmly made her decision (we are a family of stubborn women) and was all comfortable. Mum's sleeping down on the sofa and will be trying to convince Grammie to get to the ER whenever it's next possible. It doesn't help that my mother's best friend died of colon cancer and the first symptom there (that the best friend ignored) was bloody stool.
Erglack, blergh, urgh. I'm no more a fan of the ER than the next person, but sometimes it's just best to go...