Well, Pyewacket's still with us, but probably not for long. It's just so incredibly sad. I'm having a hard time imagining a world without Pyewacket in it. I know that's silly, but she just has such a strong personality, and is so loved by everyone who knows her.
She's just barely eating now; I bought some deli roast beef today, and she ate a little bit of that. Bob will carry her in to her water dish and she'll usually drink a little bit. Last night John and Leslie were over for dinner and we had Chinese food, and Pye ate a few grains of fried rice. Today, I had the leftover rice for lunch, and I put a spoonful on a paper plate and took it upstairs and left it on the floor in front of Bob's recliner; she's spending most of her time under it now. It felt a bit like leaving an offering at the mouth of a cave for a deity . . .
The roast beef got her to come out from under the chair, so I picked her up and brought her downstairs and put her on the table in front of the window. Bob said, "She's getting like Doña was -- you take her somewhere and put her down, and she stays." But a few minutes ago she got up and trotted off to the basement. I got up and followed her to be sure she wasn't going to go hide somewhere down there, but she was going to the litter box. A good kitty to the end.
Bob's been taking her outside for a few minutes each evening, and that seems to perk her up a little. We sat out there with her for a little while last night, and reminisced about how John found her sitting on his stoop in the rain, a poor pitiful little wet thing, and how all he had to feed her was hot dogs, and how she was grateful to get them.
And how we drove out late the night of my birthday and picked her up, and drove home with her on my lap, and she was so sick. But we took care of her, and got her well, and loved her and gave her a great life. We've gotten so much from her, but of course she's gotten a lot from us also. She's just tired now, and getting ready to leave us. I'm finding that really hard.