A little too quiet here I'm afraid. Pasht has gone missing and it doesn't look good. She's old, and fell in love with the gazebo and the raised garden, and refused to come inside. She also knows my Mom, who was feeding her, and the grub was her favorite canned food, so there is no way in hell she'd have left willingly.
I've known it was coming, but it's still hard to take. She was my kitty all through grad school and was my first animal after the nest became "empty". We've been more colleagues than pet, well, colleagues who share a pillow and a house.
She's one of the reasons why I don't own any clear glass drinking glasses-because they break so nicely when pushed into the sink. She's why I leave an empty spot on almost every shelf-for dozing and sunning pleasure.
She'd been getting extra tuna and salmon lately. I had a notion she wouldn't be here much longer, and I wanted to say "thank you" for the many wonderful years....I stopped counting at 13 and that was a few years ago.
For some odd reason, the loss of my friend doesn't touch the wonderful time I had on vacation. It is two, very separate feelings. One has absolutely nothing to do with the other. In that special place where animals go, there is another angel, and a couple of small dogs rolling their eyes and saying "Oh shit, she's back....."