Time and gears

It turns out that time's winged chariot is a shaft drive. Last weekend I heard it at my back, and Bob asked me, does it sound like my FJR? Well, it does.

Symmetry

Rose passed on yesterday morning. We found her when we came down for breakfast, lying conscious but in seizure. With Bob's help, I wrapped her in a towel, skipped breakfast, threw my gear into the car, and was knocking on the door of our vet's clinic ten minutes before they opened at 7am. They let me in and sprang to help her. She was diagnosed and comforted. As Bob said today, she was theirs before she was ours.

We adopted her from the clinic when she was eight weeks old and rescued from the county animal shelter. At about the same time Rosie was born, my mother had passed away. I was not looking to adopt another cat.

It was love at first sight. She got me in an eyelock in the waiting room of the clinic. It was late afternoon and the sun's rays came slanting in through the window and caught her orange eyes. (They turned green soon after we brought her home.)

I do not understand why I needed to care for a kitten to fill the hole in my heart. My husband was the noblest man in the world when he agreed to add a fourth cat to our family.