I woke this morning to the red flashing lights of the fire truck and rescue unit across the street from us. It reminded me how fragile life is. As if I needed reminding.
November is the month of Thanksgiving. Everywhere you go, people announce what they are thankful for. On this last day of November, I will post mine.
I am thankful for my normally good health, for my friends and family who love me.
But this has been a crazy week. Of course, Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the holidays, with the crazy shopping frenzies, visiting family, and all the other things associated with the holidays. But this year, mine was different.
Our family pet died yesterday.
Snowflake was our Christmas kitty, and we got her fifteen years ago, still a baby on wobbly legs. In fact, we didn’t turn on the Christmas lights that year, because she was constantly climbing up inside the tree. She climbed inside the couch too, a tiny paw came through the crack in the seat. You never knew where she would be.
She was always small, but no puff ball – all muscle and her reactions stuck on go, but she was afraid of rain on the roof and would run and hide until the storm was over. She loved to play in the water, constantly jumping in the tub and insisting we leave the water running in a trickle for her.
No longer will I see that sweetie each morning, greeting me with her chirpie little purr. No more little wet footprints on my carpet. No longer will I have to guard my morning cup of coffee. (She especially liked it black.) She had different meows for different reasons, and seemed to understand what we were saying. Her world was the inside of this house, and if a lizard was foolish enough to wander into her territory, she’d pounce on it with glee. This was her home, and she was purrfectly content.
We miss you, baby kitty.