Boo Hoo Liza

I am feeling like crap about all of this.

The bat episode was so damn funny when it was happening. Trinket's possible death sentence certainly has taken the shine off of the story.

I sob to Scott. He's apologetic, but practical.  He's had dozens of pets. And dozens have had illnesses, and many have died.  It happens. We live longer. It's the commitment we make when we become pet owners. They depend on us and they love us and we accept that someday they will die and leave us sad and mournful.  (And then we replace them.)

The thought is unthinkable. 

I bring Trinket into the house and give her some treats. I will not sequester her while the kids are at Lars'.  She can have the run of the house for a few days until I figure out what to do.  It's just me and I've already been exposed if there is anything to be exposed to.  I will love her and hold her and spoil her rotten while I can.

I call the kids and tell them the major bullet points of the story.  This needs to sink in...way in...before they come home Friday afternoon.

Trinket caught a bat.
The mean old bat flew all over the place and Mom acted like a loon, but some of Auntie Charlotte's nice friends came over and killed it for me.
But the bat may have had a disease that could hurt Trinket. 
So Mom took her to the vet. And now we have to wait and see what happens.
And while we wait, no one can touch her but me. Or feed her. Or clean the litter box.

Pat agrees without a single question and gets off the phone.  An easy excuse not to scoop cat poop for a few weeks. Awesome.

Hil is not that easily fooled.

"Mom, if Trinket does get sick what happens?"

"Well, Hil, I don't think she will, but if she does, it's very dangerous."

"How dangerous?"

I will not be let off easily.  "Very dangerous."

"Will she die, Mom, yes or no?" My child has the same patience for BS that I do.

"Yes, Hil. She would have to be put to sleep so she would not suffer." Why did I make this phone call?

Hysterics. Histrionics. Tears. Wailing. Gnashing of teeth. You'd think Hil was rabid.

I talk her off a ledge by convincing her that Trinket is doing none of the crazy things that cats with rabies do.  And while we are still not sure, I need her help. She will need to carefully observe her and tell me if she does anything bizarre.  And she must not touch her, no matter how cute and cuddly she is.  Can I count on her to be my eyes and ears while I am at work?

I have a partner on Rabies Watch.  A sniffly, blubbering, worried-sick partner, but a partner.  Let the clock start ticking on three weeks of isolation.