A few weeks ago, Friskie, our wonderful blunderful creature cat, died. We think she had a stroke or something like that, but I can tell you, watching her die (and yes, she died right here, at home) was the worst thing I've ever experienced. I know now why I could never be a doctor or nurse or vet. And weeks later, it still sucks that she's gone albeit not as much as it did. That little cat was such a huge part of our lives and the Guitar Hero and I still find it a bit spooky coming home to a silent apartment. It's weird not being woken up every morning by a tabby wanting her breakfast or just to snuggle. There's something not right about it. But we know she's somewhere watching us and batting our heads with her paw-paws whenever we do something she wouldn't approve of. Here's a little picture showing how she reigned over our lives - after 7 am, no matter the day of the week, my side of the bed belonged to her, dammit:
She was the only cat to have a slogan: Big and cuddly, soft and wuddly.
A tribute to her unique style of catness.