She made it to about thirteen fourteen, I'd have to go look in the print archives to determine her age, but there abouts.
My daughter, Michelle, even used her for a couple of years as a show cat for 4-H. But I will let Anna tell you all about her life.
Dirt and I were disturbed around two-thirty last night, Dirt from sleeping, me from writing, to an awful noise in the dining room. It was a bad scene. All night, I tried to comfort her, which seemed to make it worse, I tried to leave her and go back to bed. There all I could do was to say, "Poor kitty, poor sweet kitty." I would get up every so often to see if there was something I could do or if she was indeed doing better. The convulsions and the writhing was awful to watch. I am completely worn out.
Poor Michelle, she and her husband have Thursdays off, so I called him to tell her, so he could comfort her and be tender. He called back twice to give me instructions for what she wanted me to do with her dear old kitty. I could hear her sobbing in the background, and my heart broke for her. Can I turn in my mom badge, I will never get used to bearing burdens for my children, little or huge. I cry when I think of the cat, I ache all over when I think of my girls.
Busy day tomorrow, and busy weekend, I'll most likely see you on the other side of the weekend.
I'm gonna go plant onions, and other things.