She's buried near the lilac where she'd scratch her claws in the morning. The house is quiet.
I was working on a post about Arnold Stang when she started coughing and retching. We had planned on euthanasia the day after Christmas, but we knew there was a chance things would not last that long. She didn't appear to be in pain and was quick to purr until yesterday.
We were hand feeding her small amounts of high calorie food several times a day because she wouldn't eat or drink on her own.
She was down below seven pounds from eleven a couple of months ago. In the past week she had begun sleeping and wheezing most of the time, drawing short difficult breaths to keep her tiny body going.
I had stopped taking pictures a couple of days ago, December 18 to be exact, because it had become to painful, too prying, but I did get one beautiful shot of Ocean and Mrs. Faustroll, who is reading a first edition of Gone With The Wind in the nook in the kitchen of the house Ocean helped build.
