Last night, we lost our beautiful kitty.
He had been acting real tired, his appetite decreased,
and yesterday he had trouble walking.
We took him in, doc said he has leukemia and really bad anemia.
He tried to convince me that he was ready to go.
I didn't believe it.
I couldn't.
We couldn't lose another pet, could we?
I took Frank home, let him rest, gave him steroids.
Later that night, he couldn't even lift his head.
I knew it was time to let him go.
Matt took him back in, I just couldn't do it,
and I didn't want the boys to see another pet slip away before their eyes.
I don't know how to explain my love for my kitty.
He hid from everyone else in the world,
but he loved. us.
He slept between me and Jacky every night,
and every morning Jack would wrap his arm around his kitty and kiss him good morning.
I am surrounded by dog people,
and I could never explain how awesome my cat was.
I loved that he stole our food while we ate dinner,
that he made us turn on the sink for a fresh drink of water,
that he rubbed his head against our hands when he wanted a head rub,
that we all knew his favorite spot under the couch,
that he so confidently walked around the dogs like he owned the house (which he did),
that I caught him doing the frankenstein walk down the hallway,
that he chased Ty's dog down the hall,
that he started purring even before you touched him, because he knew it would be good,
that I always found him asleep on the couch when I came home from work,
that he never wanted to go more than 3 feet outside,
that he ALWAYS took care of the boys when they were sick,
and that he was so beautiful and had eyes like the ocean.
I miss you terribly, and it hasn't even been one day.
(I am glad that you have big Brune to keep you company up there. Take care of each other my loves)
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