One of the prettiest kitties in the world has left us. It was time, she was nineteen, she'd had a good run. We all said goodbye to her this morning as we left, because she couldn't even stand any more. Cindy and I booked an appointment with the vet this evening to put her out of her weariness, but we were both hoping she'd go at home, and it turned out she did. Many, many nights I sat here at the computer and she would come in and sit at my feet or right behind my chair, so tonight we're sharing the room for the last time. She was a wonderful queen bitch in her younger days; Cindy and I joked that she must have been an Egyptian royal cat in a former life. Then she got fat and we called her "cow cat," and for Cindy's birthday one year I found a card in the Brown bookstore that actually was an artist's picture titled "Cow cat" and we had a good laugh about it. I think Death initially had her booked to check out about ten years ago, when she got very bad fatty liver disease and we brought her home from the vets because they didn't think they could do anything more for her. I think she was so mad at the indignities I put her under (force feeding and sub-cutaneous fluid injections) that she decided to have the last laugh by getting better and then getting under our feet for the next decade. In the last few years she mellowed and was very forgiving with the kids as they showed their affection and wonder in that great, violent way kids have. We'd have to constantly tell Evan to be gentle as he gave her bone-crushing hugs or picked her up and then dropped her because she was heavier than he realised. But in the last few days the cow cat of old was a very distant memory as she stopped eating and stopped drinking and became very light, though up until today still managing to sniff her way around the house, her eyes having been for a while now just all black. So it was time, and she looks very peaceful so I'm happy for her, but we'll all miss her terribly. Good night sweet cat.