One of the ground states of my personality is anxiety. Today, I have my pre-trip thoughts of death and dismemberment. Mostly just death. Plane crash, car crash, disasters and catastrophes. Knowing logically that my odds are no worse than on any day does not help the irrational worry.
Found a real pet sitter for Moby, and although she usually walks dogs, Moby took to her immediately. He will be fine, all will be well. I've left a ridiculous number of notes for the poor woman.
But, you know, if something does happen, I don't want Moby to ever go to another shelter. He needs a real home, we promised. We always promise we'll be back for him.
Yes, I know.