One of those weeks.
I've had one of those weeks that Life sometimes throws at you. One where you can't possibly imagine handling another major event, and yet, somehow you do because you have to. You either deal with it, or you don't, but either way, it's happened and there's nothing you can do to change the situation. The only thing you can change is how you feel about it.
First and foremost, we found out last Monday that my cousin (who is younger than I am by a couple of years) has cancer, an aggressive form of lymphoma. Because it's so aggressive, they've started chemo treatments earlier than planned. The good news is that the treatments already seem to be taking affect. We're all hoping that since he is young, strong and healthy (aside from the cancer) that he will pull through this. It's such a large shock that, for me, it hasn't totally sunk in quite yet. It seems impossible that this person who is such a strong guy (he's been a firefighter and a lifeguard, just to name a few of the things he's done) has cancer. All we can really do right now is hope for the best.
Not a few days later, my mom called me at work to tell me that our family dog, Shelby, who's been with us since I was in high school was not doing so well and that she was going to take her to the vet and have her put down. While I know that it was her time, it still seemed far too early. Her spirit was still young, but her body was failing her and had been for some time. I know in this situation I'm sad for my loss, I'm sad that I won't see her physically anymore, but a part of me should be happy because she's no longer bound by a old and breaking body.
Before any of these major, upsetting things happened, I took in a stray cat. For a little while now, I've been meaning to get another cat to keep Ludo company and here, literally on my doorstep, comes the most laidback, affectionate cat. She's super lovable and was starved for affection (and starved for food as well.) I took her to the vet and she only weighed 6 pounds. I named her Lily.
A few days after I took her in a neighbor came to me because they had found her kittens. The vet and I assumed her kittens either died or were all grown up because her milk had gone dry. So my neighbors and I hand fed the kittens for a little while and luckily because Lily was now getting adequate food, she started producing milk again. Despite our best efforts though, only one of the three kittens that were found is still alive. It seems to be doing well, but I'm hesitant to get my hopes up too high.
Here's a picture of Lily.
You can see in this picture how much her hip bones stick out. Also, it's obvious that she's barely more than a kitten herself. The vet thinks she may only be about a year old and for her to have already had a litter of kittens is just sad.
This is the one surviving kitten, who seems to be getting bigger by the day which to me is a very good sign.
As long as there's hope in life, things will turn out ok.
