She loved to snuggle on a quilt and read.
Kipling would often put her in her place. She was the sort of cat that needed some whoop ass from time to time.
And this cracked me up. It’s as if she’s saying “Whew, last night the partying was outrageous!”
And here she’s just the queen.
Kricket was a cool little cat. She could break into anything and she did. I had to cat-proof all sorts of areas. She opened cabinets and doors. Oh man. She was a handful. Then of course she and Kanga didn’t get along. That was difficult at times but I sure loved her. She was extremely smart, totally hilarious and had me wrapped around her finger. I mean to the point where I would carry her around with me from room to room. She loved that and I did, too. Heck, it was an opportunity to embrace my inner crazy cat lady.
Then Friday morning she was significantly weak, couldn’t lift herself into the litter box or jump up on anything but showed no signs of pain or injury. So off to the Vet we went and came home with an initial diagnosis of a blood disorder. The weekend was a sad slog with details to skip over here but by Monday she was much worse. We returned to the Vet and nothing good came of it. I had to let her go. I brought her home and she’s buried in the back yard right outside the kitchen window.