Mischka, the cat is no more. Douglas and I took her down to the vet last Saturday. She was very quiet. Feeble. There was another cat in the surgery, the vet’s cat. This cat was very glossy, full of curiosity and life. The cat observed us going into a room. The door closed. When we came out, I was weeping uncontrollably. Douglas was more stoic. The vet’s cat looked at us and knew something monumental had happened. She looked away.
We left Mischka behind to be cremated. We will bury her ashes in the garden - probably under the tree we bought last year, when we thought she was on her last legs. So Mischka the cat - aka Westy Scrag - surprised us all by living on for a full year. She wasn’t ready to die. But in the end it was like she just wound down.
The tree we will plant her under is just coming into leaf.