We're All Out of Kleenex

Apropos of nothing to do with knitting, my cat it OK. (We always call Abby "the kitten". She's OK too.)

We had a little health scare this week. John and I? We're fine. It was Jake's health. Now that I'm assured that he's OK too, the crying has (mostly) stopped. On Tuesday we found a little lump in his side. Big enough to notice. Big enough for me to worry and cry hysterically about it every time I stopped working long enough to think about it. Tuesday night was rough. Wednesday at work. Terrible. (If you're my student and you talked to me on Wednesday and I made no sense, I apologize. I wanted to be at home with the little guy.) Jake showed no outward signs of being ill. He ate normally, crapped only in the litter box (maybe next to it...we're not sure who did that), was affectionate, wanted to be touched, didn't mind if you felt for the lump, so it didn't hurt him. The most obvious sign that he didn't feel sick? He still jumped on my lap every time I sat down on the toilet. He LOVES that. I was completely undone nonetheless, and kept coming unglued every time I looked at him. John finally said he had to just let me cry and be sad, because he couldn't help me stop. This was a good call.

I took Jake in to see the vet yesterday. It was traumatic for both of us. The vet asked if I needed an extra box of Kleenex for the drive home. He's a sassy one, that Dr. Davis. I may have told him to shut up.

The rest of the day I stayed in the house waiting for the vet to call back with the test results. The tumor (and it IS a tumor) is benign, probably Jake's body making a little cyst or something around a bad hematoma. We tell him and Abby to fight more gently, but it's mostly a Smackdown from 10-11 pm every night. Kids these days. It should go away. I wept in relief. Then I called John, and cried some more. Then I called my mom. I'm not sure she understood the sentence, "Jake is OK" through all the hysterical crying.

I can't say why this affected me as much as it did. Does. The thought of Jake not being around, all curled up on my lap, makes my eyes well up. Last year, when John was living in Los Angeles and I was all alone in a new city, in a big, creaky house, Jake and Abby piled on my lap at night when I sat in the basement, knitting.



It was, and is, cold down there, and Jake and Abby kept me warm. And that's what kitties do, after all. So the thought of losing one of my furry friends was just too much for me to take this week, and that's the only explanation for my reaction that I've been able to identify. Too much work stress, plus worrying about getting tenure, plus sick cat equalled me, useless and weeping, with a raw nose and puffy eyes.

Last night, Jake slept in his usual spot in John's armpit. Abby played with her toy until I got up (at 12:19 am) to take it away from her. There may have been swearing. All is returned to normal in our house.



(Lest you think I did NO knitting this week, know that I've finished 2 things, a baby sweater and hat, and took pictures even. But then I left the camera at home. Nice work. Must be the swollen nose.)