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Things have been weird lately.
I'm pretty much exhausted these days and I'm getting more and more stressed out as time goes on. Holidays suck for retail. People do and say terrible things to me. The family gets all stupid. Not-so-great things happen. I turn into a mess. I really do hate Christmas.
So, tonight after work, Britni and I went to go look at some things for the presents I'm putting together and I get calls from my sister telling me to come home. She's upset. Turns out one of her gymnasts' dads died today. So she's falling apart. I finish up, get home, and it turns out she's asleep, so I get ready to go to bed and notice that my cat isn't sleeping in my hamper. In fact, she's not anywhere around. I go and ask my dad if he's seen her because she gets locked in the garage from time to time and he doesn't even look up from the show he was watching and tells me that he had her put down this afternoon.
My dad killed my fucking cat. He didn't tell me. Or Ashley. Or Josh. He just did it. He took her to the vet where Ashley's fiancee works and had them put her down. Why? Because he got pissed off at her.
We've had this cat for almost ten years. That's not old for a cat. She was just fine. A fat, happy cat.
I'm not sure if I'm angry or hurt or what. I know it's not like she's a person or anything, but she was my cat.
He's done some pretty shitty things to me, but I think it's safe to say that at this very moment I hate him.
I've officially turned into a wreck.
I'm pretty much exhausted these days and I'm getting more and more stressed out as time goes on. Holidays suck for retail. People do and say terrible things to me. The family gets all stupid. Not-so-great things happen. I turn into a mess. I really do hate Christmas.
So, tonight after work, Britni and I went to go look at some things for the presents I'm putting together and I get calls from my sister telling me to come home. She's upset. Turns out one of her gymnasts' dads died today. So she's falling apart. I finish up, get home, and it turns out she's asleep, so I get ready to go to bed and notice that my cat isn't sleeping in my hamper. In fact, she's not anywhere around. I go and ask my dad if he's seen her because she gets locked in the garage from time to time and he doesn't even look up from the show he was watching and tells me that he had her put down this afternoon.
My dad killed my fucking cat. He didn't tell me. Or Ashley. Or Josh. He just did it. He took her to the vet where Ashley's fiancee works and had them put her down. Why? Because he got pissed off at her.
We've had this cat for almost ten years. That's not old for a cat. She was just fine. A fat, happy cat.
I'm not sure if I'm angry or hurt or what. I know it's not like she's a person or anything, but she was my cat.
He's done some pretty shitty things to me, but I think it's safe to say that at this very moment I hate him.
I've officially turned into a wreck.