Mask

Our beautiful Mask died a few weeks ago. She was 18. Mother loved her baby. Thankfully, we weren't home when she passed. We kind of thought that she was going to kick the bucket because she was actually quite silly. She was Mother with fur!

The morning of her death she kept trying to take a shower with me (the cat was not Mother). This wouldn't of surprised me so much if it had been Mother. She seemed off. I knew her time was approaching so I took a moment and cried it out in the shower. I thought about so many things. Mother especially. I mean, me being a hot mess is one thing but hot mess Mother is another. Then I went to work for 12 hours.

Upon returning I asked Melanie how my baby was doing and she promptly said we will talk about it later. Clearly, we couldn't talk about it in front of Mother. She's already a cry baby. Just takes one thing to get her going and the water works won't stop. Well, it eventually does; thank you Ativan. Anyways, with those words I knew Mask died.

Melanie had the task of telling Mother the news and needless to say Mother was sobbing into the blanket about her baby being gone. So thankful Melanie was there because she deals with the sobbing better. When I deal with it there's about 25 % chance that I'm going to be fighting back tears. I was so worried that she was going to ask about the cat all the time but for once the dementia gods were listening. Mother really didn't ask too much about her after the first few days and now nothing.