Something's not right with George.

George is our cat. Our 14 year old cat. And, no, its not a mental problem, although she's crazy. :)
We found a lump or rib ribs 2 months ago. We were not sure, it actually felt like rib muscle. It actually felt the same as the rib muscle on he other side, so we thought we were being paranoid. We decided to wait it out.
Nope, its a lump. Something's not right. Larry noticed it last night. It has definitely grown. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I love this cat to pieces. I adopted her in college. She's seen me through pretty much all of my adult life. She (and Max, the other kitty,) kept me company during the years I lived alone. She made me laugh, and made me feel better when I cried. She was the first pet I ever had (on my own.)
She is a piece of work. Fortunately, we have not seen a change in her behavior, so hopefully, its just a lump, nothing bad. In her old age, she has found the backyard. She figured out the dog door, immediately after we got it. She goes out there, lounges in the dog's beds, 'patrols' the back yard, and defends us against all the leaves in the back yard. (Those leaves might get together an strom the house, you never know. Hee hee hee... ...) She's out there rolling around in the grass, showing off in front of the dogs. She'll roll around on the bad, waving her paws around right in front of Sherman, like 'look at me! look at me!' Ah ha ha ha!
I've never had a pet die. Well, I remember the dachshunds we had as a little girl died, but I had no clue what that really meant. So, I have never seen a pet die. I have no idea what I'll do. Poor Larry. We've already had the discussion for all the pets- we will not do any major treatment if it is only the prolong their life for several months. If it is the dreaded 'c' word, (no, not that word, I mean cancer,) we'll not pursue any treatment, except for pain management. And, as soon as the pain management starts to not work, we will let her go. I do not want her to suffer. I will be a disaster, and Larry will have to deal with me, a bumbling mess. :) (Larry is so good to me. I love him!)
Here are some fun shots of George and Max (both girls,)

George loves coffee. And tomato sauce. I don't get the tomatoes. However, we have to watch our mugs.

George patrolling the back yard.

Still watching the back yard.

Sleeping in the dog beds. Little passive aggressive, huh? Note- the dogs never chase her out of their beds. They lay in front of her looking pathetic, until she moves.

'Look at me! Look at me!'

When we moved to Phoenix, the best source of moving boxes were liquor boxes from the state stores. (PA does not sell beer or liquor in food stores, they only sell beer and wine coolers in beer distributors or bars, and liquor at state stores.) Anyway the boxes are sturdy and free. We ran out of room storing boxes (we only lived in a 700 sq ft 1 bedroom condo,), so these were stored above our kitchen cabinets. George loved hiding in the boxes. We almost packed her several times, since she'd bury herself in the full boxes too, before they were taped up. We gave up looking for her around the condo, since she thought she was stealth, and explored all the boxes. We'd hear randomly tumbling boxes, and thought, 'George strikes again!'