Window Kitty

Every morning, as I'm racing madly about trying to get myself out the door for school, the cats make an obvious effort to show me just how relaxed and unbusy their own little lives are.  Their only burst of energy occurs when I first get up and shuffle down the hall to the kitchen.  My only wish is to get that tea kettle on quick so I can have my first cup of coffee.  Their first order of business, on the other hand, is to get me to feed them NOW.  To this end, they weave about my feet, meow, hop on the counter, and in general act like obnoxious punks until I plop a stinky glob of canned catfood in each of their dishes. 

After that, they just sit around burping, washing their faces and thinking deep thoughts.  They settle into their day, smiling smugly at me while I'm doing fun things like hunting for my glasses or trying to get my right earring in before making the final dash out the door.

 



Here is Mulligan sitting in the window of our bedroom. 

*Note the Cheshire grin.











Changing the subject, I've had a sorrow in my heart all week.  We finally decided that it's time to put down our old mare, Sarah.  At 31 years old, she's been on a slow decline for over a year now but, until recently, it seemed like the old girl was still enjoying life.  The last vet who checked her over thought that she was in pretty good shape.  However, these past few weeks she's gotten increasingly stiff in her legs and it's become evident that getting around is now extremely painful for her.  So we decided that it's time to let her go.

The vet has been called and will come this Friday to give her the injection that will stop her heart.  Bruce also called the trucking service that takes away the bodies of large animals.  I know that it won't matter a bit to her that she won't be here at Frogpond, but I still wish that we could bury her here at home.  But digging a hole that is large and deep enough  for her (small though she is) in all this rock would be next to impossible. 

I know that putting her down now is the humane thing to do.  But it's not easy saying good by to my endearingly grumpy equine friend of 17 years.