Some of you may be familiar with my kitty, Magellan, affectionately known as Jelly. We lost him Saturday. We’re not certain exactly what happened, but it appears to have been coming on for some time and snuck up on us (cats hide their symptoms well). We took him to the vet. He experienced cardiac arrest in the office; the vet administered CPR and got a heartbeat. Then we needed to tell her what to do; she indicated the prognosis was not good. After brief deliberation, we decided it was best to let him go. We buried him Saturday afternoon in the shade of a young live oak tree.

This caught us very much by surprise, and we miss him terribly. Eleven isn’t old for a cat, but it isn’t young either. He was such a joy, and I was so looking forward to his companionship in Alabama. Hershey, the dachshund, will now be spoiled rotten. All three dogs maintained a respectful distance without being told while we dug the grave and conducted the burial. Pericles (our three year old Siamese–who is unequivocally a daddy’s cat) has been especially attentive to me. It helps.