Christmas
So, those of you that follow me on tumblr already know that this Christmas wasn't great for me.
It's hard anyway: about seven or eight years ago my nan went into hospital on Boxing Day and died a few days later, and my mum's parents always visit and make life incredibly difficult. Everyone has nasty relatives: mine happen to be my grandparents. For me, Christmas (the non-Jesus part, anyway) is more of a test of endurance than something I actually enjoy.
Anyway, yesterday my much-beloved cat Dylan collapsed and had to be taken to the vet. He died last night, three minutes before we arrived to say goodbye. Dylan was my favourite out of all the pets I've ever had. He was incredibly tolerant, laid-back to the degree that you could literally hoover him and he wouldn't mind. When I had norovirus, he came and slept on my stomach and purred in my ear while I was asleep. He would let me cuddle him as long as I wanted, and would follow me around like a dog. I will really, really miss him, and all day I have caught myself looking for him.
We have another cat, Licourice, but he's not friendly in the same way and not really mine in the same way Dylan was.
In non-depressing news, I got a lovely Cath Kidston handbag, enough red wool to make a Sarah-Lund-In-The-Killing-II jumper, and 11's sonic screwdriver. I enjoyed the Doctor Who special a lot, although I got a bit annoyed about the fact that 'special' for women apparently equals 'can have children' in Moffat's mind.
It's hard anyway: about seven or eight years ago my nan went into hospital on Boxing Day and died a few days later, and my mum's parents always visit and make life incredibly difficult. Everyone has nasty relatives: mine happen to be my grandparents. For me, Christmas (the non-Jesus part, anyway) is more of a test of endurance than something I actually enjoy.
Anyway, yesterday my much-beloved cat Dylan collapsed and had to be taken to the vet. He died last night, three minutes before we arrived to say goodbye. Dylan was my favourite out of all the pets I've ever had. He was incredibly tolerant, laid-back to the degree that you could literally hoover him and he wouldn't mind. When I had norovirus, he came and slept on my stomach and purred in my ear while I was asleep. He would let me cuddle him as long as I wanted, and would follow me around like a dog. I will really, really miss him, and all day I have caught myself looking for him.
We have another cat, Licourice, but he's not friendly in the same way and not really mine in the same way Dylan was.
In non-depressing news, I got a lovely Cath Kidston handbag, enough red wool to make a Sarah-Lund-In-The-Killing-II jumper, and 11's sonic screwdriver. I enjoyed the Doctor Who special a lot, although I got a bit annoyed about the fact that 'special' for women apparently equals 'can have children' in Moffat's mind.