Today we put my cat down. Her health had been spiraling out of control. I’ve had Isis for nearly 19 years, and I’m pretty sure that she was at least 2 years old when I rescued her outside my barracks at Fort Drum.
She was a great cat. And she was a bitch. But she was my bitch.
We buried Isis in a sunny spot in the backyard. Isis liked lounging in the sun.
I was surprised to hear a bird singing as we buried my cat. I looked up to find a male Cardinal chirping away in a nearby tree. The 13YO said he was singing for Isis. I like that idea.
Day 53, sad.