Goodbye Boots

Boots died this morning. I'm devastated.

I remember crying so hard when Johanna's dog died a few months ago, because all those feelings, everything she said ... well, it's what I would've said if I'd been writing it. And now it's me.

It was never supposed to be me.

I knew today was going to be the day. Last night, I dreamed Boots was here -- the house where he grew into the obnoxious, stinky loudmouth who could charm his way out of anything -- playing with Fred and Joe. I'd like to think it was his way of telling me he's okay.

This afternoon, my parents buried him with his favorite toy, a collectible bear he stole from me and carried around on a shoelace like a dead mouse. Fondly known as the "mouse-bear." He went crazy if he lost it.

Oh, I hope his sister, my older cat, is going to be okay. She's always been more like a mom to him, much the same way Fred babies Joe.

Enough babbling. I'm going to go love on my girls ... who are also obnoxious, loud, stinky, and charming. They've got big pawprints to fill, but they seem to be on the right track.

RIP Boots 1989-2006