October 23, 2009
I've been looking down on my girl and watched her pick up my ashes. She's planting a memory garden in the back yard under her window where I made my nest before I decided I wanted to live in the house. I watched her pick out a pastel pink rose bush just for me.
Each of my humans had their favorite memory of me. The dad human called me his little moocher, because I would always beg for a sample of his dinner. The mom human called me her Ms. Stubbs because I would always cross my legs like a little lady. And my girl would call me her polite little baby because I would always knock at her bedroom door and wait to be invited in even if the door was ajar.
I can leave my humans with their memories now. Things seem to getting back to normal at least with my cat family. Tiger, my son, has stopped sniffing my carrier. Vash seems to be getting back to his normal routine of jumping into bed with the humans at night. And best of all the two foster kittens have started running and playing again.