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During my lunch hour, I went to the Aylmer Animal Clinic with my parents and my brother to stroke Fluffy while she breathed her last. The poor little beast had been suffering for a while, though how much only became apparent two days ago, when she started coughing up blood. The vet said he couldn't see her heart on the x-rays at all, there was so much blood, and possibly a tumour, in her chest.
When G and I went to my parents' house for supper the other day, she was so weak she couldn't even get herself onto her favourite shelf, along the living-room window. It's less than two feet off the floor. I could see in her beautiful green eyes that she knew she was dying and it broke my heart. Even seeing her go was almost a relief; she was nothing but skin and bones and her fur was becoming matted. When the vet gave her the injection, each of us with a hand on her, she didn't even move, just lay quietly and after a few seconds, that was it.
She had a good life, long life -- fifteen years is nothing to sneeze at. And she was loved and well taken care of, always. Though we named her after a plant from a children's book, she was always something of a Little Bad Guy, which is what those whose home she came from had dubbed her, not realising she was a she, though Little Scaredy Guy might have been more appropriate.
All the times you slept on my bed, all the times we had to protect your food from your greedy brother, all the times you went wild at the mere hint that we might bring out The Glove to brush you, all the meowing and the purring... I'm glad it was part of my life.
Silly little Minette, you'll forever be in my heart.
When G and I went to my parents' house for supper the other day, she was so weak she couldn't even get herself onto her favourite shelf, along the living-room window. It's less than two feet off the floor. I could see in her beautiful green eyes that she knew she was dying and it broke my heart. Even seeing her go was almost a relief; she was nothing but skin and bones and her fur was becoming matted. When the vet gave her the injection, each of us with a hand on her, she didn't even move, just lay quietly and after a few seconds, that was it.
She had a good life, long life -- fifteen years is nothing to sneeze at. And she was loved and well taken care of, always. Though we named her after a plant from a children's book, she was always something of a Little Bad Guy, which is what those whose home she came from had dubbed her, not realising she was a she, though Little Scaredy Guy might have been more appropriate.
All the times you slept on my bed, all the times we had to protect your food from your greedy brother, all the times you went wild at the mere hint that we might bring out The Glove to brush you, all the meowing and the purring... I'm glad it was part of my life.
Silly little Minette, you'll forever be in my heart.
Rest In Peace, Fluffy
May 1990 - 9th of August 2005
May 1990 - 9th of August 2005
