Tough Night

Earlier tonight, I had to have my 19-year-old girl Erin put down.

She'd been deteriorating for a bit  --- wasn't eating much or grooming.  She was not the chubby girl in the picture.  When she came down to eat tonight, she sort of collapsed, and I knew it was time.  I gave her a good massage with the grooming glove, which she always liked, then took her to the emergency vet.  They were very kind.

She was always the odd cat out around here.  She preferred to be by herself, save for when our lovely Zen was alive.  Those two were sort of locked together.  Erin did not like to be picked up.  She was the chattiest cat I've ever had, often talking up a storm from other rooms, or from down the hall.  I never figured that out at all.  She wouldn't just hang out with us --- it was weird to see her come into the den for any length of time.  She was her own piece of work.  It was hard to say goodbye.