I’ve had this post in edit mode for the last few days. I just couldn’t find the strength to sit down and write it. On Monday my little kitty Mop died. She was young, too young for that to happen. And it happened so fast. I left to go decorate a Christmas tree with my sister and her kids, and I got home around 8:30 or 9. I could tell right away that there was something wrong, but she had a little sneeze and at first I thought it must be similar to a cold.

After a couple hours it got worse and worse. I held her in my arms most of the night and we all finally got to sleep around 5AM. My poor little Mop never woke back up. You will sorely be missed, little one. I’ve had dreams about her almost every night, all good, thankfully.

Mop was the first animal I’ve ever called my own. My family has had pets, friends, even my wife has had ones I at least partly considered mine. Mop was the daughter of our older cat Apricot, my wife got her while she was in high school. There were four little ones in that litter. Two girls and two boys. We gave away the boys and kept Hope and Mop.

We only intended to keep Hope, but Mop was the runt of the litter and her mother tried very hard to kill her off. Because of it, we hand fed Mop for the first few months of her life. There were some very close calls, but she always pulled through and survived. She was very weak as a baby. When it was time to actually give away Mop and the boys, Tigger and Jester, we just couldn’t do it. We had formed such a strong bond with her over months of nursing her to health. We decided to keep both girls. I’m so glad that we did.

I do apologize about the quiet blog. I guess I’ve been taking it pretty hard. I haven’t felt like writing at all. She was the most playful kitty I’ve ever seen. Every year I thought it would wear off as she grew, but it never did. Just a few days ago we were playing together. I haven’t quite come to accept that we won’t get to any more.