gypsy died today. she’s the roly-poly one one the left.
she of the teutonic personality and loud-ass voice.
she hasn’t been feeling well for quite a while, but she took a turn for the worse in the last few days. the doctor thinks it was lymphoma.
in the end, i didn’t have to make the decision about letting her go. she made that decision herself. because of course she did.
she was her own cat: liked people, sure, but she lived life on her own terms. spent a lot of time kicking james’ ass—he’s the blondie on the right.
gyps just turned nine. we had over seven years together. she’s made me crazy, been sextus interruptus cat, made me laugh, and she was an awesome companion.
my little cat, mingus, ran around the house yesterday morning for a bit, right after i took gyps to the vet, looking for her buddy. checking in all of gyps’ usual hiding places.
but after a while, min got distracted: by a sunbeam, by a toy, by being a kitten.
i was envious of her and yet weirdly comforted by that.
min’s chasing mice in her dreams this afternoon, curled up on gypsy’s blanket on the couch.