Tomorrow, I guess.

A fine project to tackle between Christmas and New Year’s, with the family out of town, and far too much time to fret over my approach: “I’d like to . . . I want to . . . I need to have my cat put down”
     She’s not all that old. She’s probably not sick. It’s mostly she’s driving us crazy and ruining our home. But here I’m still stuck on the fact she’ll be killed on my say-so. “An overdose of narcotics,” the receptionist tells me rather matter-of-factly, directly into the vein, by appointment only.
     “Tomorrow, I guess. But not too early.”
     “Noon?”
     “That’s fine.”

Inspired by Auld Lang Sigh. Image by Craiyon.