I didn’t choose her — she chose me. Our mish-mash cat family started with Belle. After feeding Belle and the other ferals for two years, I let Belle move in completely (she was already halfway there) and had her spayed. spayed and release the others, and they were happy with the “release” part. But Belle decided I would belong to her and she to me. But now my best friend of 14 years has died. Did I do enough to save her? I will never know — I wanted her to be happy and comfortable with no more meds and shots and poking and prodding.
I knew she would never jump on the windowsill, or sit out on the fence again, nor would I feel her tugging at my shoelaces, or licking my face — she was too weak. But I wanted her to have just one more day in the sun, one more bellyrub, one more day for me to love her, but realized she was fading fast and I rushed her off to the event I had so selfishly put off. Herbie — another who chose me and Belle put up no objection — was there with us as I held her in my arms and we said goodbye. But he looks for her and cries, and I can’t stop crying.
You lived a good and happy life, so I should be simply glad for that, but I miss you so much my sweet, sweet beautiful girl, Belle and i can’t believe you are gone. Thank you for sleeping by my side and being my perfect friend and family for so many years. I hope I did right by you.
I love you, Belle!
| Belle |
| Cheri |