Mourning the loss of last feline triplet Rowena.
There was no real reason to check our email. We were (as this is written are) in Cozumel, on the vacation from adulthood. You know, the time in life when problems are challenges to be overcome, faced head on... Accepted as part of being a grown up.
We were running away from home to a beach, a bar and a book. Just one check in and we could go back to having sand between our toes. But, being a grown up means reading the whole email.
Rowena had died. Friends, family members had rallied, made the best decision and found that she'd gone somewhere comfortable and joined her litter mates. With this litter, no Vet care has ever made a bit of difference when the time came.
She was the smallest of the three, and the cockiest. Freidman and Winchester would clumsily try to snare a moth. Rowie would watch them flail, fail and stare dumbly at the insect. She would sniff, shoulder past them, snatch the poor thing from mid air and pop it in her mouth. Munching loudly, she'd saunter away.
After the other two left we got a playmate for her. She was game (up to a point) but eventually hissed her displeasure and went looking for Pat's lap. Being an old cat was hard work.
Her appetite fell off a cliff. With the three refugees from our Northglenn window well that always said the end was painfully close.
We say farewell to a tiny cat with a big heart. Thank you for your company. We miss you already.