Moxie

Have put this off long enough, time to put it in writing. We lost a member of the family last week. A small, black female Manx cat, who'd been with us for the last 18 years. She was definitely feeling her age the last couple of years, slowing down considerably, limping badly on the repaired knee that had served her well for most of her life. She got to the point where it took a lot of forced meds and obnoxious procedures to keep her going, but they seemed to be effective. But last Friday she just crashed, too weak to move. When the vet suggested that it would take a transfusion to give her enough strength to manage further diagnosis--it was pretty clear that her time had run out, and we agreed to euthanasia. We'd seen it coming for a long while, but the arrival was still abrupt and unexpected.

I guess she had a pretty good life, for a cat. Owned our acre and a couple besides, and did her Darwinian best to ensure that the small animals and birds in the neighborhood were quick and observant. Or dinner. A mighty hunter, Moxie. She deserved a better ending to her story, but it was long and mostly happy one. She'll be missed for a long, long time.