I've been going to Animal Medical Clinic since Shakespeare was a kitten. He was 5 months old when we got him, back in 1986. I had no idea where to take a cat and picked them because they were first alphabetically and I had driven by the location many times and knew where it was. The owner of the practice saw us and, seeing this small bundle of cat sleeping in my lap said, "I'm sorry. We just can't treat wild animals like him. I'm just afraid he'll take my arm off." Okay, these are people I can support.
The following came in the mail on Saturday. I couldn't open it because I've received this three other times and knew what it was.
And of particular importance to me, the back of the envelope:
Other vet clinics probably do this, but it means so much to me that they are taking care of all the arrangements to have her cremated and returned to me and they care enough to send a card. Betsy seems lost yet today. I came home briefly before getting the hair cut and she seemed somewhat confused about who I was. But I scooped her up and she put her head on my shoulder and started purring. I think that's going to be our official greeting when I return after being gone. I can't think of a better one to reassure both of us that we'll be okay.
Beverage: Ice cold Dr. Pepper