Nash died on Monday morning in my arms. We had a really good weekend and
thought he was doing well. My husband and I were able to spend a lot of time
with him. He was eating and drinking. We took him to bed with us and he
slept between me and my husband although he would wet the bed. At this point
it didn't really matter. We just put some plastic bags under his blankets.
When we woke in the morning, we just knew that it wouldn't be long. His eyes
were glazing. I just hope that the 6 months he spent with us were better
than he would have gotten elsewhere. Of course, as his last act of defiance,
he peed on me. Once again, not really important.

My other guys are wondering where is he is. They are looking for him. I keep
looking for him. All I know is that it is something to sit in the middle of
the floor and have my other guys sit in my lap because they know I need
them. I am covered in cats. I guess the treats help.

Then to top it all off, yesterday (Tuesday) I found out that a wonderful
woman who taught me everything important to do in case of a trauma (i.e.
apply lipstick first) passed away. She was an animal lover so I'd just like
to think that she and Nash are taking care of each other.

Thanks for everything.
Lynn Miller