The tough assed kitty breathed her last on Wednesday. As reported last week, Maggie was a terminal case, but she'd bounced back so many times. This time it was just a little too much to ask her to come back again, and it was time to let her go with a little dignity.
You really knew it was over when we got to the vets office and opened her crate (which like any good cat, she hated), and she didn't even bother coming out of it. The fight was well and truly gone from her. She did have a couple of strolls around the vets office, but no happy leaps from surface to surface, just unsettled anxiety from being somewhere she really didn't want to be.
When the time came, she made a couple of her trademark meows as the injection was given, and then she was gone. As she laid there, I was struck by just how lovely she really was. Her fur was so soft, and just beautiful. I feel horrible for Debbie, who has had to say goodbye to several of her furry friends so close together.
Maggie was a talkative sort, whose varied utterings actually sounded like she was discussing things with you sometimes. I know I had more than one conversation with her.
It is going to be a lot quieter in Ms.B's office, without her feline visitor there to give an opinion, or take a short stroll across the keyboard at a crucial moment, ensuring that the e-mail says "%Um)gaLIHWBySu" instead of, "I'd like to paint the shutters green"
Goodnight peanut. Love ya.
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