I think all of you who know me here know of my beloved kitty Fin. For those of you who don't know she was diagnosed with gastrointestinal lymphoma back in November.She was so sick at the time I never dreamed she would live this long, but my girl was a tiger.
She lived comfortably for the most part, with a few bad spells that she had always managed to pull out of. Each bad spell took it's toll though, and she grew progressively thinner and weaker. When she stopped eating on Sunday, even with the appetite enhancing pills, we knew the time was coming.
We waited till yesterday afternoon, just in case she was able to rally again. When I carried her out onto her beloved porch and she tucked her head into my chest - we knew the time had come. She was helped to the bridge by the kind vet who diagnosed her and her Dad beside her.
I knew my hysterical sobbing would only cause all of us more pain. I stayed behind so her spirit could find her way back to me. I'm sure it did too. I feel her all around me - oddly enough hovering around my water cup.
She was a perfectly imperfect cat that we couldn't have loved more.