Anyone who is or who has been a pet lover knows how hard this is to write. Last night at 11:00 one of my beloved kitty babies passed away.



She came to my house at the beginning of 2004, along with Brownie, another stray cat. I named her Little Thang because she was skinny and such a cute lil 'ol thang. When I brought them inside after deciding to keep them, she seemed happy to have a home and accepted her new status with contentment.

But during the past two weeks she began climbing on my bed and crawling on top of me, resting her face in my neck. I'd pet her as I read then hold her while I slept.

In the last few days she had become thinner but yesterday, other than a couple of small bites, she ignored her food and wouldn't drink water. She didn't seem to be in pain and never once cried out. I held her to my chest as her buddy, Thumper the Shepherd, looked at us and nudged Little Thang with her nose.

It was always funny watching the two of them together, Little Thang licking Thumper's face as if she were cleaning it and then Thumper licking Little Thang, leaving doggie slobber all over Little Thang's face.

Last night, Little Thang became much weaker but the vet's was closed and the emergency vet clinic wasn't open so I cuddled with her in bed lying next to her as she stretched out on a cool sheet.

But then Thumper, who had climbed on the bed and again was nosing Little Thang as if to say, "Let's play," began whimpering. Little Thang stretched her head and looked back at me, moved her lips, shuddered and passed on.

Some may think me crazy, but just as I had been telling her how much she was loved and what a good kitty she was, I believe she was telling me it was time for her to go.

Death is not a welcome guest, even though we all know it is inevitable.

For me, there has been so much of it the past few years as relatives, friends and pets departed, that I wonder how there can still be so many tears left to flow down my face.

Although I am blessed to still have Thumper, Brownie, and another stray I adopted, Baby the Boxer, with me, the house seems empty. The dogs sense my sadness and seek petting. Thumper has been going into the bedroom and out then back in looking, I'm sure, for Little Thang, her buddy.

I know there will be many happy memories to help soften the sad times of the future and that I will likely need to go through this again but for now I will cry unashamedly and believe Little Thang knew she was loved for the eight years we had together.

R.I.P. Little Thang. I firmly believe we will meet again one day.