Message from Rob, upon the death of his cat. *Sigh...*
Sharp claws, like pinpricks.
Fur of all and no color.
Unequaled huntress.
Kizzy took nothing from nobody if she wasnt in the mood. But she wasn't mean about it. In fact, she was always very nice. Until you pissed her off. Then, a swat with her razor-like claws, and you were left in a cloud of orange-ish/pink-ish/colorless fur. When you were nice to her, though, she reciprocated. She would pur and mew and beg to have her head kissed. She loved having her head kissed. And her stomach rubbed. Some of the strangest behavior I've ever seen in a cat. If you could put up with her constant coming and going, and with her bottomless stomach, she was a good cat with whom to live. I'd spend the rest of my life feeding her just to touch her fur once more.
Tears blur the keyboard as a write this. I apologize to you all for this long, incomprehensible mail, but I feel like I should do something. It isn't feasible, but fasting for a week or two would probably make me feel better. Unfortunately, this mail and my thoughts are all I have. Please bear with me. And please don't burden yourself with feeling bad for me. I'll get over it. I just need my time to mourn her. I thank you in advance for your sympathy.
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