My poor old cat who has been my sole companion for sixteen years was put down this evening. I buried her in a deep grave in my back yard. It was hard. She was very frail, very ill with cancer and kidney failure and some other lesser stuff. I've been keeping her alive by extreme efforts since around the end of October. I had been preparing for this for a long time, so today I gave her a heavy enough dose of Valium so she'd be peacefully unconscious when she left here to the vet, but when the time came, she was almost unfazed. My cousin then gave her enough heavy liquid narcotics to do in a cat three times her size, but she showed almost no effect. My cousin then took her over to the nearby Banfield where their vet office cheated me out of an additional $30 after giving me a firm quote not once but two separate times. So, for all my weeks of tearfully planning and worrying, this did not go well. My cousin brought her back and helped me bury her under the guava tree out back. I had dug her grave a couple of weeks ago. She was buried in an antique box, wrapped in a new red shemagh. At the moment I'm running on Valium and exhaustion, cleaning up all the cat-related stuff around the house and trying not to think about this. It's been a very bad day.