....And then there were eleven.
One of our youngest cats, Bindi, died today. "She of the short tail" had somehow developed acute renal failure and her little body couldn't take it anymore. She was fine, or seemed so, a week ago. And now, we just got through burying her little one-year old body in the backyard among those who have gone before her. We are still not sure what happened or how, but maybe in a couple of weeks we will get some answers when certain tests come back.
She was unique, vivacious, and very loving. She will be missed greatly.
In most hospitals, certain codes are called by specific colors, so workers know immediately what the situation is. Code black, in most places, means disaster, most specifically tornadoes. I had a dream about a week ago concerning tornadoes, and it was so vivid, I woke up with the sound still roaring in my ears. I remember in the dream, I was literally running from tornadoes, and it was one of those dreams that seemed to last all night long, when in reality, it was likely only a few minutes in duration. I remember I was not hurt, but had some of our cats with me, and I would lay on top of them to protect them as the tornadoes, sometimes four in the sky at a time, would roar by. First we laid in a ditch, then a closet, and finally a basement. As I abruptly awoke, I remember the words "The coming storm" echoing in my ears. I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom all day long. At the time, all was fine, including the kitties. Now I get it.
This song may seem out of place, but it was playing when I drove her hurriedly to the vet hospital this morning, and it played again as I was taking her body home to bury this evening. I always liked the song, and now it will always be Bindi's song. I will probably always shed a tear when I hear it now. But I will also smile. She will always be loved.