The Guilt is upon me

I left work early this afternoon to pick Ada up at the vet. The excruciating hour drive back to my house with that howling cat is not a trip I will soon forget. Yet, I did not realize until I got home the extent of the damage on my little kitten. She hopped up on the sink to drink some water - she drank as if to save her life. As she drank, I noticed something very disturbing. Her paws were bleeding, leaving little smudges of blood where she stepped. The vet had told me that her paws would be tender; he did NOT tell me that they would be BLEEDING. Oh the insufferable guilt! Ada's little paws look like they've been dipped into a meat grinder and all so I could save my precious blinds from imminent destruction! How could I be such a bad parent. Such a bad pet owner. She gimps around the house, staring up at me with those big eyes, cursing me. When I could no longer endure the despair of her suffering, I quickly called the Lytles. Will was able to assure me that, yes, her mangled paws are normal and, yes, she will heal and, yes, he worried about the same thing when Buddy's claws were pulled and, yes, it'll all be okay. Thanks, Will - that conversation was sweet relief. I'm still feeling pretty darn guilty, but less manically despondent. I think the guilt will run its course, too, once Ada starts tearing around the house again like the little banshee she is.