The vet said it would happen fast. The tumor would rupture, and she would just be gone. Winnie seemed fine on Monday, but didn’t come home Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ve looked all over the yard for her, but she is no where to be found. More telling than anything is the fact that there isn’t any new cat hair on the black convertible roof of Laura’s car, where Winnie loved to spend the night.
Her entire life, Winnie was an outcast. When we adopted her, she had been returned to the animal shelter twice by two different families. She didn’t fit in with those families’ other cats. We should have taken this as a sign, for our younger cats began to bully her. It was a rare treat when Winnie felt safe enough to sit in our laps. She was quite timid, and scared most of the time.
Winnie was ten years old, and she will be missed.