I came down with a vicious cold and sore throat yesterday but had to schlepp into work to get a proposal done anyway. You know how it is. So on top of feeling miserable, I had to face the anguish of hearing that Daisy, one of my two cats back in the States, died today. We adopted Nick and Daisy (named after characters in The Great Gatsby) in 1991 when they were tiny kittens. Nick is still fine, a bundle of energy. Sometimes too energetic, even at 17. But Daisy had been sick for nearly a year, having gone bind last November and then rapidly deteriorating – we knew it was coming.

My friend Lisa went through a similar trauma just a few weeks ago, and I knew it would be Daisy’s turn soon. I know, it’s a cat, but the difference these beautiful creatures can add to our lives….

Alright, I’ll stop before I get too sentimental. Let me just say I loved Daisy and she had a special story. The week we adopted her she got violently sick and was diagnosed with feline leukemia. The vet suggested we put her to sleep. I couldn’t do it, and said if she had to die, better it be at home with people who loved her looking after her. Well, that was in 1991, and she recovered and did great for the next 17 years. So we can’t really complain. But still…but still…. It’s just that you feel like part of you died with her. Even though she’s “just a cat.”

Bad timing, though I guess there’s never really a good time to die. Okay, I’ll go back to sipping tea and and get to bed early. Three people from my office were sick with the same thing today so there’s definitely “something going around.” I can’t say how much I’ll miss Daisy, and am thankful she died painlessly in her sleep, under the watchful eye of a wonderful person who loved her as much as I do.

No comments on this. Maybe when I recover from the cold and the news. Thanks.