Called home to the Sweet Hereafter

These pics are from happier times, in 2005, of our fuzzy Ruby.
She is playing in the mousy fields in the sweet hereafter. She really told me she'd had it--the other night we had a lap on the sofa and she really could take it or leave it (she couldn't really pee or poo as she wished, so she just laid her head down with a sigh).

Losing a pet is so hard, because you are tempted to do all sorts of horrid "procedures" to try to get one more week with them, but at least I got to take her home and pet her head before she had to go. She raised her head to be petted and seemed to enjoy that.
That's all for now.



More on the Ru-Ru:
Whenever she heard Nate crying, as a baby, she would come over and yowl. That's a good kitty.
She let him help with her baths: he said "Ruby, here's your duckies!" and brought her over his rubber duckies, then he carefully poured bath water over her head so it didn't get any soap in her eyes. Good boy. He let her be when she felt old and chrochety (the whole last year).
Matt and I both agree that A: a kitteh will probably come to us, rather than us to it.
B: there is only so much guff we will take from said kitteh, ie, doors will be closed at night so we can all sleep, cat kept inside for safety, etc. (yeah, right! inside cat, definitely, shut doors? maybe)
C: Mommy can go over to the Cat Rescue peeps on 4th street Sat., but we will be careful to wait for just the right kitteh to share our lives.