I cried...

Thursday night, I layed on the bathroom floor and sobbed. Not just cried, hysterically sobbed. The kind of sob that comes from deep down in your chest. And your soul. The kind that makes your head hurt for hours afterwards. The kind of crying that comes not just from being sad, but from hurting physically.

JoJo wasn't just 'a cat'. I know that's how it seems to the outside world looking in, but she wasn't. She had been Chandler's cat for 10 years. And mine since we started dating. She was a part of our family. And now she is gone.

Now I'll be the first to admit, she wasn't the most gorgeous cat in the world. But let's be honest, she'd had a rough start in life. She started out with grease packed in her ears, fur, pretty much anywhere she could have grease on her, she had it. Then she had an 'accident' with a car. One that could have been avoided, but I won't go into that. Then she had problems with her eyes. Not only was she not cute, but she had sick eyes all the time, one being glazed over, a nasty scar, and she would have random bouts of 'tweaking' as Chandler and I called it due to her 'accident'. They were kind of like seizures but not. Anyway, that's beyond the point. The point is that JoJo was our first child. She liked to lay with us on the couch and watch tv. She would sleep on the bottom of our bed every night. She was always there. And now she isn't.

Tuesday morning I woke up to her crying under Breagan's crib. I took her out only to discover that her back legs were not working. After 2 trips to the vet and several doses of prednison later, we decided that it was time. Time to let her go. This was no way for her to live. The nurse at Dr. Durfee's carefully wrapped her in a pullover of mine that she loved and placed her in the pet carrier. Then I took her to my dad and he dug her a grave amongst our other family pets and we layed her to rest. (Thank you dad. I know that I wouldn't have been able to do it.) And yes, it was 90 something degrees and my dad was out in the direct sun digging a hole. He's a saint.When we got back to my mom and dad's house, my mom asked me if we said any words at the 'services' and I said, "Yeah, I said 'Damn it's hot out here!' " And so the healing begun.

I have to thank everyone for the little things they did for me. Mom, Hailey, and Brinley for watching Breag while I made numerous trips to the vet. My dad for being the funeral director. And Chan for letting me sob on the bathroom floor and then coming in, giving me a hug, and saying 'This probably isn't the best place to be laying down at'. Dr. Durfee for taking such good care of her. And the sweet sweet sweet nurse there. I do not know her name, but I will find out. She was so good to me and to Jo. Thank you everyone.

We love you Jo