This morning we found our little white cat having passed away during the night under our bed.
We knew that her time was short, as she was suffering from the F.I.P. disease which is almost always fatal, but of course we had hoped for a few more weeks. Bianca has been worsening for a number of weeks--less energy, less food eaten (with never a loss of appetite), her coat looking less well kept, more skinny than she should be.
We took her into the vet about four weeks ago and were advised that the time was short.
Last night she did not come down for her usual bite of dinner, and when she did not appear this morning, our hearts sank as we began searching for her.
I looked under our bed and saw a tail and touched it lightly, hoping for a response but already knowing the truth. I put my hand under her cool body and we placed her on a towel.
We dug a grave in the raised flower bed which was a favorite spot of hers and buried her just before the rains began.
Such a wee, wee cat, but with the largest purr and heart that one can imagine.
Goodbye little one,
May you always have cream and open fields in which to run.
