I'll never forget the day I met the boy on the right; he lured me in with a playful purring, and then with one flick of the kittywrist, made me look like Scarface Al Capone.
Pyramus was his name; he had a sister...yes, Thisbe. We let Thisbe go a few years ago, when the Cancer became more than even a heroic cat could take.
I had to let Pyramus go this morning. He had a stroke last evening, and I sat with him until the end.
He was a good cat; if such a thing could be said for something who was pointy on five ends.
My friend Kizz always suggests extra treats to others, as a kind of remembrance.
Good idea.
3 comments:
I didn't even know why I was doing it this morning but I did. I had half a stale old treat in my pocket when I met one of my favorite dogs and his newish little sister. I snapped that dry nastiness in two and made them eat it (they were easy to convince). When I get home I'll treat the felines. They will be somewhat less easy to convince and not at all grateful, which is how we know they're cats.
Gospeed Pyramus. Stay away from wall chinks and lions!
My sincere sympathy. We still miss our Arvo. I will think of you, often.
We've lost two dear one over the last six years and my heart still breaks over them, especially at night, especially over Ariel...I know the pain and the heartache, and their loss, more than any other, makes me hope that there is something after this life so that I can see them again. I am deeply sorry for your loss. Pyramus looks like such a great cat.
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