Noel

At the end of my pregnancy, Noel, my eight-year-old cat, had a small lump on her side.  I figured it was a fatty tumor since her behavior hadn't changed.  She was her usual self - tinkling in corners, begging for ice cream, and knocking glasses of water off of my bedside table and onto me in the middle of the night. 

When I feed Baby Ethan, Noel comes and sits on my lap.  During Ethan's Wednesday morning breakfast, I pet her and realized that the one lump had turned into many lumps (one of them was the size of a grape).  By that afternoon, I was sitting in the vet with Noel, listening to the vet explain the three different cancers that she may have.  As I tried not to burst into tears, the vet said things like, "It's unfortunate that the lumps are not in one of her legs, then we could just remove the leg".  After explaining that surgery may not even work, the vet told me a "nurse" would bring me a quote for the lumpectomy and that I should schedule the surgery with the receptionist.

So, I am now left with a difficult decision.  Logically, I should not be spending money on surgery for my eight year old cat.  I have a new baby.  I have a house.  I have expenses.  She is a cat.  She is a cat who I love.  I have known her for as long as I have known my husband.  It was just the two of us until we decided to add Blue, then Ethan, then Fiona, and now Baby Ethan.  We have been through a lot together in the past eight years.  She instinctively knows when I need comforting and is always there for me. She is not just a cat. She is my friend and the first member of my family.

On Monday, I am talking to a vet and family friend, who is going to give me his opinion.  Until then, I am stuck repeating this in my head: "She is a cat.  How can I put a price on a best friend and family member?  She is a cat...".