rest in peace
I've mentioned at least once over the past year and a half that we've been feeding a stray cat. I named her Little Bear because we do have black bears here, and she looked like a miniature version of one. My husband called her Waddles because she did get kind of fat after a while. What was I going to do—let her starve?
She showed up one day last spring and decided to stay. I patiently picked ticks out of her coat and we nursed her through a bad bite that got infected. For the winter we made her a shelter because we couldn't let her inside the house. Let's just say that my two cats don't take kindly to strangers. We did the best we could for her.
She died last night and we found her along the side of the road this morning. She was always so good about crossing the road—I don't know what happened this time. Trucks and cars fly along our road, even though it's posted at 40 mph—I'm sure it was someone going too fast.
So rest in peace, Little Bear. I'm going to miss your funny face looking in the window at me every morning while you patiently waited to be fed.