When who you have isn't who you want

I have been completely freaked out over my cat Connie. See post below for an episodic recitation of our travails.

I love her very much. I have had to make expensive and consequential decisions about her care. Now that she's home, I have had to administer meds – something I am clumsy at. I have handled it all as best I can and I believe I've done a good job. I have reason to believe that within two weeks, she'll be fine and this will be nothing but a bad memory.

Which is not to say I couldn't have used some support. I wish this was 20 years ago. In 2006, my mom was still alive. She's the one from whom I inherited the pet gene. She would have listened to me work through my worry. She's dead now though.

In 2006, I still had Henry. He, too, was a huge pet lover, so he would have understood my panic. But here's the thing about Henry: he loved me unconditionally and would tell me I'm doing fine. Because of course I am. I miss having someone in the world who only saw the best in me. He's dead now, too.

In 2006, I still had my oldest friend. She's a crazy cat lady, like I am. Plus she could always make me laugh (don't underestimate that). But since about 2010, her life has been off the rails. She's got so much of her own stuff going on that she can't be of any real comfort to me, beyond sending me AI slop and memes. Who she is now makes me miss who she was so much. 

So I turned to my friend Elaine. She has two cats she dotes on. We just saw one another for her birthday last week on Wednesday and had a nice day. When I called, she picked up immediately and we talked for about an hour. But it's not what I wanted. Elaine can be humorless. And when I explained to her that I was overwhelmed to learn that Connie needed surgery, especially when I thought my cat had turned a corner and was doing better, she said, "You've just go to get over that." I was annoyed. I understand the wisdom in what she was saying. She's right in that Connie can pick up on my tension and fear. But as I said to her, "How do I do that, exactly?" Does she think I want to feel overwhelmed and outmatched by life at this moment?

I realize I'm not being fair to Elaine. I'm just mad at her because she'd not my mom, or Henry, or my oldest friend.