It’s just a cat but I’m pretty broke up about it. I’ve had cats that I don’t give a shit about. This one wasn’t like that. He had an outsized presence in the short time he was with us. I sorted through some photos, which doesn’t make me feel one damn bit better about it. I’ll get over it eventually. These things happen…
I wrote this last Christmas:
“It has moved into the house and rules the roost… as a kitten ought. I couldn’t keep the little scoundrel out of the house, it invaded my peace, it owns the cozy woodstove, it delights Mrs. Curmudgeon (and grudgingly me too), and the floor is littered with various cat toys. It wasn’t what I wanted or planned, but it’s what happened. We like critters in general and clever tricksters doubly so. So it’s here to stay.
I’m just glad the cat lets me live in its house!”
He appeared in our woodpile last October:
He was so cute (and agreeable) that he made himself inevitable.
I built him the world’s nicest cat shelter, which he never needed since he could teleport.
When you give a part of your heart to a dog or cat often you get rewarded well past your wildest dreams.
But sadly they often pass before we do and the loss of a dear friend hits us hard.
Praying for you and yours.
Please don’t forget to give the surviving dog and your wife extra snuggles.