greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

A place where words don't go.

Sophie died today, sometime after 1:30 this afternoon. Spooky and I held her until it was over. I am grateful to our veterinarian, who let Sophie go with dignity. I don't know if there's anything else I can say, not here. I won't say she was "my" cat for the last sixteen years. I will say that she tolerated my company for the last sixteen years. I rescued her from the Birmingham Humane Society. Well, Jada rescued her, on the day she was to have been euthanized. That was early in 1990. Since then, excepting 13 months in 1995-96 when she was abducted by a crazy cat lady in Athens, she was my constant companion. Since 1992, she has been my only cat. In a life too filled with inconstant friends and traitorous acquaintances, she was always there, regardless. She was a fine old dame and shall now be missed more than words can ever hope to convey. She was Sophia. Sophie. Uma. Joe. Joseph. One Big Organism. Because, in my experience, no cat is ever happy with only a single name. Like Sam and Lisa said, "A cat-shaped hole in my heart." Absofuckinglutely. Anyway, it's late, and it's been a very long and terrible and tearful day. Tomorrow, I want to post a few photos of Sophie...but I'm not going to be maudlin. I like to think she'd not have approved of maudlin displays on her behalf.

I expect it'll be a few days before I'm writing again. I hope everyone will understand if Sirenia Digest is a few days late this month. Spooky and I need a little time, that's all.
Tags: sophie
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  • Start Again

    I did not actually consciously decide to put the journal on hiatus. It just happened. I could not image to continue recording that "Today I did nor…

  • Howard Hughes and Some Stuff

    Sunny and still warmer today. We reached 82˚F. I'm reading my way through the new JVP. I have, of course, read "A systematic review of the giant…

  • "And I didn't know you have your own affairs."

    Sunny and warmer today. We made it to 78˚F. Last night's low was 40˚F. The study of literature threatens to become a kind of paleontology of…