It's been a bad week.
The dark grey sky and the pouring rain is fitting with my overall mood today.
Two evenings ago, my beloved Princess Squeeky II died. She was going on 14 yrs of age. I called her my feline alter-ego. I was she, in human form.. and she was me, in cat form. I use her photo, when she was young, as my internet ID photo. She caught a virus that caused her to cough, and she coughed so hard she threw up and could not keep food down. She heaved so hard that she tore something inside and she bled inside. She rapidly declined and died.
I felt so helpless. I could nurse her thru many things, but not that. Veterinary care is beyond our reach right now. We do without many things right now in order to keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. It's not easy being poor at any time, but being poor and sick makes the daily struggle ever more difficult. I feel like a part of my soul died when my lovely old friend passed over the Rainbow Bridge.
The other cats had all said their good-byes that afternoon. They always do, I have noticed. They pay their respects to their dying companion, then they leave them in peace. They mourn their dead. Yesterday we all mourned. Each of the other cats in our family went apart from each other, instead of interacting with each other and congregating on my bed.
Today, life is getting back to as normal it can be with someone important missing. Squeeky was the boss cat, the one who mothered all the rest. Each morning she greeted me with a happy tail wiggle, a lick of her chops and a dance to remind me that it was milk time. Time for a drop of milk.. and whomever also wanted milk showed up in the kitchen for milk. Since she got ill, there has been no milk dance. Until this morning. Squeeky's sister Gidget was there, waiting for her milk offering.
Life goes on even with a broken heart.