Letting go

Today is the last day of 2020 and it doesn't mean anything, except the transitional day between the end of one year and the start of another.  

Two days ago, we had to say goodbye to Paisley.  We brought her home when she was a week old.  Her eyes hadn't opened yet; her ears hadn't popped.  She was a perfect, newborn kitten, in need of love and care.  She grew into a beautiful, happy, healthy and hilarious cat.  She had a huge personality, considering she had been a runt; she was funny, sweet, incredibly loving and very outspoken.  She gave you a piece of her mind and you had to listen.  I never met a cat that vocal - as if she had you engaged in conversation.

We knew time was getting shorter for her; over the last two years, she'd slowed down and gotten thinner.  And at 3 a.m. on Tuesday morning, her body gave out.  The pain is in knowing I had to wait until 6:30, after calling the emergency 24-hour vet line, to take her to the doctor to say the last farewell.  That was very hard; knowing she was suffering, terrified and confused.

Coming home and knowing she's not there to greet me; seeing her now-empty water bowl and food dish on the counter still makes me cry.  And Roxy and Bailey know something isn't right.  But they're giving us all the love they have because they understand someone isn't here.

I'm heartbroken.  I loved Paisley.  She was my baby.  And she will always be just that.