Update

I've hit the Pause key on the War in the Wild series as you may have noticed. (Note that that is what I call it over on the Fiction of the Chant page. Sometimes I refer to it as the Wilderness War series, consistency isn't exactly one of my virtues.) You probably also know why, if not, read this.

We knew it was coming, in cat years Sasha was 84 (17, almost 18, in actual years), her kidneys were failing/had failed and she was getting weaker by the day. There came a point where she was no longer enjoying life and we could see the pain in her eyes. Something which was impossible to bear any longer.

Her sister Anya, same age, same litter, in fact they look like twins but for a couple of minor details, is still strong and healthy. While she isn't as spry as she once was (who is?) she has managed to avoid most major ailments (she experienced a bit of a scare a year or so ago, but with the right treatment she got back to full health in no time).

She too has noticed the absence in the house. While as kittens they were inseparable, over the years they became competitors. Sasha was the alpha cat, Anya accepted her role as the beta, after all, that meant more work for Sasha. (Who was a mouser extraordinaire.)

Oddly enough, for the first eight years of their lives, Sasha was my cat (more accurately I was her human) and Anya was The Missus Herself's constant companion. I'm still not sure why that changed, but it did.

So this loss has been correspondingly tougher on her. While Anya still keeps tabs on me, The Missus Herself has lost her constant companion. She was also the one who made the call regarding that final trip to the vet. It tore her up, yes it did. But it was the right call.

During the whole affair I wanted to scream "Stop, this can't be right! Surely there is a way to fix this?" Knowing all the while that there wasn't. This sort of thing is inevitable. Death, much as we hate to admit it, is part of life. There is a cycle to things, all that lives must eventually die.

It was tough getting to sleep Monday night, replaying things in my head, trying to figure out if there was something we could have done differently, all the while Anya is wondering what I'm doing up so late. "Damn it Dad, we've all had a rough day, go to sleep."

Which eventually I did. Only to awaken in the morning to realize that the nightmare wasn't a dream after all, it was real. Painfully real.

Not my first rodeo, I've been through this before with people I've loved as well as cats and dogs I've loved. It never gets easier, in fact it might get harder, at least that's my experience.

Bear with me as I adjust to this new life, it's going to take time. On top of all that I'm traveling for business in mid-July. Three weeks in Sandy Eggo, at least I'll get to see the kids and grandkids living out there. I had been looking forward to the trip, funny how life throws things at you that you'd rather not have to go through.

How soon I get back to the War in the Wild depends on many things, not the least of which is my motivation to be creative. I'm motivated to write, just not that way. It takes time.

I may spend some time telling tales of my felines over the next cuppla, it depends.

Thanks for all the kind words in the comments yesterday, it helps.

I have some of the best readers...