Brutal, unexpected, and sad.

This one is a hard one to write. I'm a mess, and so is ttk--about 2 hours ago ttk accidentally stepped on Tasha, our black cat. She bolted out the window, then he heard her yowling in the garage, and it sounded bad, so he came and woke me up, and brought her in to me. I took one look at her, panting, body cool to the touch, and said EMERGENCY HOSPITAL. Then I told him she was probably not going to make it.
She died at the vets.
She's gone. We're burying her now.
We're going to bury her in with Needles.

I go help dig. And cry some more.

TTK is going to stay home tomorrow and we are going to do our best to comfort each other and keep me from cutting. Klonopin and hiding in bed are both in the plans.

It was an accident, a total accident, where she ran out from something she was hiding under, straight under his foot. But we both feel guilty--I had stuck the crap in the hall that he couldn't see her behind, and well, you know why he feels guilty.

One of her nicknames had become "S&M Kitty" since every night ttk had to shove a pill down her throat, which she fought quite admirably, drawing blood frequently. Then, 10 minutes later, she would be all over him and purring like a mad thing.

I love you, my sweet tough dog-taunting black cat.
I go cry more.
-me