It's been a week since Pita died, and I'm finally ready to fill in a few blanks. Last Wednesday night, she was gasping for breath and could no longer make it to the litter box each time. We made the decision that night. She slept in bed with me - Jason took the sofa - and I called the vet the next day. Then after work, I took her there. I still can't talk about that.

I picked up her ashes at Schoedinger Funeral Home, where she was cremated, yesterday. They also had a paw print and a fur clipping. The fur make me sad, but opening up the little wooden box and seeing her ashes in there, all that was left of her, I just stared crying again. I miss my baby kitty.

In the meantime, adding to the Unluckiest Year Ever, I was turning into Veronica's daycare this evening when a woman rear-ended my car. She was going pretty fast and hit me so hard that the front end of her car was underneath my rear bumper, and one of my rear tires no longer touched the ground. I was checked out by medics, the other lady's car was towed away, and a policeman took a report and cited the other woman. I know it could've been much worse, but dammit, it's just more to deal with. I really didn't need this.

I need to get some rest. Car wreck or no, still need to do laundry, still need to hit the grocery store, still need to go back to Veronica's daycare center and drive my car home (the car should run, but I was in no condition to drive it right after the wreck.) Plus now I have the hiccups and Jason's chasing Veronica around the house, as she has a poopy diaper but would rather play right now than have it changed. (sigh).