I don’t know what I’m doing. I think I might be burnt out but I’m not sure how to tell anymore. I just feel like I’ve stopped processing basically everything around me. I’m running on autopilot. Work, home, work, home.
This will make me sound like even more of a crazy cat lady than was previously thought possible, but I lost what I like to call my “soul cat”, Jack, about a month ago. He was only ten. We were inseperable and he wanted nothing more than to just always be near me.
I made the choice to put him to sleep. I am so far beyond never wanting to kill something. I cried when we had to disect a worm in high school biology. Sometimes I feel like I failed him but he was dying.
I knew immediately that I needed to fill the hole though so I got another cat about two weeks later. So far I’m molding him into Jack 2.0 but part of me worries I’ll never be able to see him as his own cat.
This is the new boy, Albus, Albie, Albinator. He’s making me happy so far.