Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Punkin spends most of the day in the cat beds by the upstairs patio window. She tries not to let the annoying human with the camera disturb her rest.
I am beginning to see the subtle signs of age nibbling around her edges--the sharper bones, the ragged coat, the wear in her eyes. It makes me sad. I know I am not going to get to keep Punkin as long as I want. I knew that going in but mortality is a very abstract concept when you are holding a three-week-old kitten. Fourteen years later, the prospect is more real.
I treasure this stubborn, sweet-natured, sensitive little soul.