I lost a little friend yesterday. A cat we'd come to call, "Floofy" started visiting last year. In the last few months, he had become an almost constant presence, sleeping on the doorstep or around the property, sometimes all night. He wasn't ours, but seemed to want to be.
|On the frosty step ~6am. Settled in to sleep the night despite -8 temps.|
|Early one May morning, incubating a dahlia tuber.|
Early yesterday morning, I discovered him at the back the house, meowing plaintively and unable to use his back legs or get up. R. alerted Floofy's owner, who took him to the vet. His owner came by later that day to let us know that Floofy did not make it.
I am missing him terribly today. He was a big, affectionate, gentle lovebug who followed me all around the garden, nuzzling my hands as I pulled weeds and flopping on the ground to watch me plant seeds. He would give me slow, loving blinks as I talked to him. If we had allowed him to come into our house, I don't think he would have left.
|July 2016, in the shade by the strawberries.|
|Just last week - wanting to come inside, but content to be near.|
We found out Floofy's name was Vixen. I found out last year while trying to track down his owner that his SPCA name had been, "Love". He certainly was the embodiment of that.