  I got home from work after spending 8. 25 hours with a lump in my throat,  changed my clothes,  and lay down on my back on the bed.  Hobbes ( my gray cat)  crawled up and curled into a ball in the crook of my knee.  Pooke ( my black cat)  stretched out from my thigh to my chest.  We lay there for about a half hour while I cried until my head was pounding,
 tears falling down the sides of my face into my ears.  Even as I felt them,  I knew I was experiencing an odd mix of feelings:  sadness for Jenica and for Jack,  her younger kitty;  guilt for coming home to my two healthy cats;  loneliness for my friend to whom I've grown more close since she moved to New York;  fear and dread for the time when I'll be in her shoes;
 more guilt for thinking selfishly of myself and not either gratefully about my cats or with more care about my friend;  and both bone- tiredness and sleepiness from wanting to lay down and cry all day but not being able to do it.  What a shitty day.  And it wasn't even my day to be shitty.  Jenica's been much more copasetic about things than I would be.
 Or,  she's seemed that way.  She has lots of friends in NY,  good co- workers who knew her kitties and who care about her happiness,  and a boyfriend who,  well,  who's what I'd have chosen,  I think,  if I'd had the chance to hand- pick her boyfriend.  Her support system is extensive.  That's all anyone could want for a friend at a time like this.
