Many a moon has passed in the wake of my last post. Countless fosters have come and gone. The internally damned dog still curses us with her unending presence. Yet. Hurt prevails. My subjects. My pathetic, impure, unworthy subjects. Their number has changed.
Shock. Utter and intense shock. We could have never known, never understood. Even now, I do not know what crimes I could have committed to rain such terror down on my people.
I miss her. The house has changed, the air itself missing an essential component. There will never be another, never a way to fill her absence.
FIP. We received the diagnosis almost a year ago. Mommy cried. She screamed and sobbed. Daddy did too. Hurt poured off of them and in the wake of their pain, I abdicated my throne, letting another take my sacred place.. as Princess.
The counters! The sacred counters! She roamed across them taking food from their very plates a feat even I cannot manage. She fought the medicine, spitting out the pills, taking them out but they persisted and for a time, my sister returned.
The house laughed, we forced down our fear and pain. She would not allow us to mourn. We acted as though the treatment worked. We pretended the vet was wrong and diagnoses wasn’t terminal.
They took her away on a warm autumn day. She stopped eating once more. She slept all day and no longer ran to welcome them home. She told them, with kisses to the face and a rub to their neck, that it was time.
I miss my sister. I miss my friend. I miss the most loyal of my subjects.
Hurt heals with time. Perhaps the sting will fade. She’s here with me serving me still. The sun, orange just like her warms my fur. I follow Mommy around, clinging to her in our shared grief.
Marmie. Your body may have failed, but your souls survives. In our hearts and in our memories.
Our Kingdom lost a valuable member late last year. Rest well. We will never stop loving you.