About a year ago, we picked up a couple of wacky barn cats. Leap is an obnoxious turd of a cat. She gets you to pet her, and then takes a swat. Tip sounded like
Lauren Bacall after smoking four packs of
Chesterfields, but she was a grateful, skinny old girl.
They say only the good die young, and Tip proved them right. We didn't know how old she was, but she was certainly up there in years. My wife knew when Tip wasn't well, and she warned the kids that Tip wasn't long for this world. When I went into the barn to pay my respects, she lay half-out of her little sleeping crate, barely breathing in little spurts. I stroked her once to say goodbye. My wife and youngest daughter talked and pet her, and she found the will to give one good last purr session before expiring. She knew she was loved.
We dug a grave and buried her in a Doc Marten's shoebox. I'll miss the old girl.