is how Mr. P refered to Frisky.
Disclaimer: This is a downer post, but I hoped writing would help. I can't tell yet, which is why I am posting anyway.
She was a TALKER and PURRER and BEGGAR of potato chips and fried chicken. She wasn't that independent, she spent most of her time with us. However, she would also randomly sleep in closets, drawers, shelves, cabinets or right in the middle of the floor or in the middle of the dining room table.
Then, yesterday morning I got up and was organizing some stuff, and went into the still very cluttered office to get a file folder, and she was under the desk. Not that surprising, until I talked to her and she didn't immediately talk back. I got really nervous and it was completely founded...our Frisky had died. She was 15, probably very close to the day. I am so sad. I don't even like cats that much. She was SO annoying. But here I am. Sorta heartbroken. I stayed home yesterday. I went into work today and trying not to cry made my stomach hurt so bad I had to come home and just cry. My nose is stuffy and I look a wreck now, but my stomach doesn't hurt anymore. But now Mr. P is on his way home, he has been out of town, and I have to look at his face, and he REALLY loved her, out loud and all the time.
I had to come home and look at pictures of her alive so that I could get that last memory out, but it won't go. it won't go. And while it is here, I can only cry for that damn damn cat.