Rest In Peace, my dear Biscuit, 2000-2001. If only he were still alive and sitting on my lap, purring, at this very moment. Everything wouldn't be perfect, but maybe it would be a little bit better if I had my beloved kitten.
I hope he's having a good time playing with all the other kitties on Rainbow Bridge (that's cat heaven, BTW). Maybe he's met up with Moses, my other previous cat, and they're sitting together at a kitten table with kitten cups of tea, discussing how much their owner loved them. It's a comforting thought - but, more realistically, if there is a Rainbow Bridge, Moses is probably chasing other cats' tails and terrifying the quiet ones. Bless.
Why am I suddenly falling apart over a cat that died over three years ago? Honestly, I think I'm having an early midlife crisis (worrying, because maybe I'm destined to only live to 36 .... still longer than Robin, should consider myself lucky .... he left me .... watch this face for more tears). Or maybe I've just got Jabitis again, I remember crying so much that I'm surprised North Parade wasn't flooded when I had my first jab. Pth, God knows what it is (and she isn't willing to tell me - maybe I should ask?), but something's wrong.
- b.k. x