Last night, Hans and I found our kitty, Yin Yang under the bed. She had passed away in her sleep. Poor Yin Yang was never the healthiest of cats; she always had a runny nose and her fur never had that high pro glow. The vets that I took her to could never figure out what was wrong with her and since she never seemed to be in pain, I never asked for more invasive tests. But still, this week I did notice that her fur seemed a bit more dry and she tinkled on the kitchen floor. I told Hans that if she peed on the floor again that I was going to take her to the vet to see if she had a urinary infection. I really didn't expect to find her dead.
She lived a long life for a kitty, eight of her years with us. Hans found her outside the restaurant one day and fell in love with her. He called and left a message on our house phone saying how he had found the cutest cat and I'll never forget that he slowed down once during that message to say, "And YESSS, I'm saying we can have another cat!". This from the man that told me when we got engaged that we would not own any cats, I put my foot down because I had my kitty Tiggy and there was no way that I'd leave her forever, so then Hans said, Well, then the cat won't live inside... eventually that became "alright, but the damn cat will not sleep in our bed!". Tiggy will only sleep on top of Hans at night.
I hated telling the kids this morning that Yin Yang had passed. Ella is too little to really grasp it, but Finn was upset and very concerned about how and where we would bury her.
I'm sick as can be with a fever, chills and cough. And just miserable. I took dayquil even though I hate that fuzzy brain feeling that it gives me... I'm desperate for relief.
No sewing for me when I'm sick. The new Lumplings will have to be born next week.