Roxanne died

She was the cat I got for my 21st birthday. She was 18 years old, and lived well. In the days of my irresponsible youth, she wandered the woods of Burnsville, mothering countless kittens. Later, having lived and loved hard, she was content to be indoors. Death is death, but it was about the best death a kitty could have. She just fell asleep. Only Elvis – the friendliest cat anyone has ever met – is left. He’s a bit confused and sad.

I’m not much of a take-pictures-of-your-cat guy, but here she is at about one year old; five feet up on my screen door, chasing moths.

She would climb up on my chest and sleep and purr if I was sick in bed. If I overslept, she would wake me up with the gentlest bite on the nose.

She wound down pretty quickly. Just a matter of weeks. The last week and a half we saw a swift decline. She was just too tired to get off the couch and go downstairs for the night. I had to carry her; three weeks before she would have wiggled and fussed, but by then she seemed to welcome the help. Then, finally, she just stayed in bed, sleepy. Hardly enough energy to reach over for a drink of water. Hours later she was gone.

The kids ask if she’ll be in heaven. Helen’s wonderful answer is that if we need her to be, she will.

3 thoughts on “Roxanne died”

  1. I’m sorry your cat died. Our neighbors had an extra cat they just threw outside and she lives in my garage. Tiger, I call her, is a long hair, pleasant little girl in need of a home. She plays well with others, doesn’t eat too much, and can catch a mouse if there is one in need of “catching”. :)

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