Friday our cat Mira, whom we adopted as a tiny kitten nineteen years ago in Kazakhstan, died, the result of acute on chronic renal failure. She fell asleep, as they say, in Nonna’s arms, in the arms of someone who truly loved her, about as good a death as anyone can hope for.
She was a good cat, an indoor cat without front claws, unable to protect herself if the need had arisen. As a kitten she loved to wait in ambush, then run and jump at the wall behind us, placing all four of her claws at our eye level, as if to let us know that she could have had us, if she wanted to. As she grew older her athleticism slipped away and she became more of a couch potato, but always glad to see us, always trying to climb into our lap if we sat quietly long enough. In her last years she became blind in one eye and seemed to have trouble seeing out of the other eye. Her teeth started to fall out and she developed high blood pressure and Nonna faithfully fed her medications daily.
Goodbye Mira; we will miss you.
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