There's nothing like sitting around with your dead cat to make you want to start blogging again....

My cat died about 20 minutes ago in my bed.

I was planning on having him put down today. I called the vet yesterday to make the appointment but they were already closed at 3pm so I figured I would just call first thing this morning. When I came home last night he was in bad shape and I put him in bed with me. He started seizing this morning and I just watched helplessly and tried to pet and calm him and then suddenly he was gone.

I don't know what time my vet opens his doors. It's about 6:30am and I think they may not open until 8am. This is a predicament. I put Franklin in his cat carrier and then wondered what I could do to pass the time, besides the obvious (cry, feel terrible, cry more, feel terrible more).

I pondered reading my Carlos Castaneda or History of Qabbala books but mulling over the nature of human (and animal) existence and deeper theological questions, although perfectly appropriate at times like these, is a little deeper than I care to go. Taking my Rosetta Stone French lesson somehow seems inappropriate and watching the glare of vapid morning TV programs just seems like a headache-inducing waste of time.

So here I am, pouring heart and soul into a defunct blog because there is nothing else to do at times like these but write down how terrible you feel and have the whole world read about it on some public platform. Such is the world we live in. At least I am not Tweeting about this. Yet.

From Franklin's (soon to be) ashes, I guess this blog has arisen again. I will find something less maudlin to write about next time I post, because hopefully I will not need something I love dearly to have died inches from my face in order to get me to write on here again.

We'll see.