I got to Paris this evening and checked my email. There was one waiting from my cat-sitter saying that my pretty, sweet, furry, six-toed, elderly kitty Crazy had died. She was 17, which is a very good age, and after the big scare last September, the vet said she probably only had two or three months left. She managed a few more than that, and I hope they were good ones.
It was not entirely unexpected, although I hoped it wouldn't happen while I was away. To tell the truth, it doesn't really feel real yet. It will be a bit of a sad homecoming in June.
I hope my other girl, Lucy, will be okay. She and Crazy never really hit it off, but I hope she won't be too lonely when the cat-sitter isn't there. And that she comes out of hiding to get some cuddles. Well, I doubt she'll allow cuddles. Quick pets on the head, then.
She was a fine cat, a very fine cat indeed. I hope her kitty-cat soul finds lots of tea to drink.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Now with less captcha! Speak pretty to me. I love comments, especially constructive criticism.