We didn't see it coming this morning when I dropped off Sparkle, the alley cat who has been my constant companion for four years, at the vet. She was alert. Content. She was just supposed to get an infected wound cleaned and be home for dinner. At 1 p.m. the vet called. A small puncture wound in her abdomen from a dog attack last Monday had gone unnoticed and grown into a massive, system-wide infection. It would be possible to try to save her, the vet said over the phone as Sparks was on the operating table, but success was unlikely. She recommended putting the cat to sleep. Since ol' Sparks was already asleep, we decided that would be the most humane thing to do.
Sparkle, or Fuzz, as she was known to friends, was a great cat, fond of spectator gardening, absorbing the news in the Gazette through osmosis every morning on the kitchen table, sunning on the front porch, sleeping under the covers and leftover cereal milk.
She was tough and tender at the same time.
She was buried at sundown Monday in our east garden.
We'll miss her.