I looked over at One-Ear, who was lying nearby, knocked out by the local anesthesia. Hot, salty tears began to form in my eyes and run down my cheeks, as the reality of saying goodbye to my loyal little companion of 19 years hit home.
Not this too, Lord.
Walking home afterward with my cat’s empty carrier in my limp hand was like trying to wade through fast-setting concrete. The trials and mental anguish l had endured in the previous 12 months—depressive episodes, burnout, and agoraphobia—weighed me down until l felt like l couldn’t take another step.