Old Kitty Emma is looking more and more as if she's on her last legs. I'm worried about how much she might be masking discomfort and constantly second guessing myself about when it'll be time to call it. And always guilt about maybe I coulda been a better keeper for her, though rationally I don't think that's a fair judgement on myself; sure there's always more of a degree of "intense cat person-ness" one can aspire to, but I don't think that would have changed the landscape here that much; the setup, with that many pills, was probably had signs of its own unsustainability, though it has been a good number of years. Amber, Emma's person for most of her 16 1/2 years, was over last night (in town for work) and is definitely in the "she's just really old" and it can be well-meaning but inadvertently hurtful to prolong things camps.
