I love this cat.
I've had her since I was little.
Her brother (who's dead and died years ago when he ran
away to the lady next door) taught me to walk. She never ran
away for more then a day, even when the family betrayed her
not just once, but twice by bringing in two other animals.
She brings us mice and chimpmunks as presents,
keeps us warm at night, and she even knows when I'm beyond upset.
She comes to me and sits next to me, purring loudly.
All she wants in return is food, to be left alone at times, and loved.
The days go by and she gets thinner and thinner.
She might be sick, I don't know.
She's old, I know that.
Fourteen is old for a cat, I don't care what you say.
Just because most can live up to eighteen doesn't mean all of them can.
Your grandmother or something dies at 96.
Just because they weren't 100 doesn't make them not old.
I love Twitter and she means a lot.
I'm scared she'll die soon and I hope she'll die happy.
Not because Bud was chasing her or Mouse took her dinner place.
I don't know why I'm posting this really.
I just love her so much and lately
I've been wanting people to know how much I care.
She won't see this, but she knows I'm here.
And thats enough for her.
