Well, I thought I’d get a nice night’s sleep, having not to worry about bothering Mickey.
Yeah. Right.
Through the night, when I’d wake up, I had at least three different cats on my pillow (Mystie, Potter and Marco). Bobby jumped out of the bedroom window full on to my belly. Ooomph! When we went to bed, there were eight cats on it.
I guess it’s that time when the status quo shakes up, seeing as Mickey was the senior cat.
I miss him a little. I’m not sad that he’s gone. Because I know how very, very ill he was and I know (especially after being told he had a tumor in his jaw) that there was no hope of recovery. Ever. Even if we were bazillionaires (right now, we’re hundredaires) no amount of money would have fixed Mickey. I am sad that his kidneys were failing. I am sad that he had cancer. I think if it hadn’t been for the cancer, he’d still be with us, but when he couldn’t eat…
Anyway, this is going to be an interesting couple of weeks.
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