I collected Lancelot's remains from the vet's office this afternoon. That prompted a mental conversation, in which I tried to explain to him that we tried our best and did what we thought was best.
One reason this was so difficult is my firm belief that Lancelot never wanted to give up. He had given up on recovering, but he never seemed to ask us for an end. I was thinking about the last couple days with him, how he spent most of his time looking out windows, isolating himself (which, if you knew Lance, you know is very strange behavior for him). Lauren was sure he was trying to get outside and find somewhere to hide. When he wasn't doing that he was trying to get some comfort from us, but he never really could.
I'm going to try writing about something else henceforth. We're in a state of mind now where we can think about life, the world, and the future again. Things that had disappeared or seemed utterly trivial are starting to have weight again.
Thanks to everyone for supporting us and helping us.
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