Earlier today, one of my sister's cats was put to sleep. Her name was Pumpkin. She was only 3 and 1/2 years old. Her purebred coat was a rare devonshire cream calicho pattern; with her bright green eyes, white paws, and that little grey spot on her pink nose, she was absolutely beautiful. She was one of the prettiest kitties I've ever seen, and a real sweetheart.
Unfortunately, she was dying from leukemia. She was gaunt thin, unable to eat, and in constant pain. But she was still loved, and still playful. She still cuddled with her "mommy", still held mutual grooming sessions with her sister kitten Tinkerbell, and still chased a string all over the place.
Pumpkin didn't have the best life. Abused and neglected as a kitten, she was rescued when my sister adopted her. But she always suffered the scars of those early months of pain, most noticeably in her fear of men -- any man. She was less afraid of females, but still cowered and hid around strangers. (And don't even get me started on what the sound of the vacuum cleaner did to her!) It took years of diligent love and affection to make her the happy, comfortable cat she grew to be... and she didn't get to be that very long before she died too young.
Miss you, Pumpy! Rest in Peace, little one.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
