Cleo Sleeps With the Fishes

That's a positive statement. If cats have an afterlife, hanging with a bunch of fish is probably the best thing to hope for. I know that's where I'd want to be. Hanging out in a field of catnip in the sun next to a pond with so many fish they occassionally have to force one to jump out to make room. Although Cleo preferred turkey. If she smelled it, she'd do her darndest to crawl into the trash can. That and a groccery bag were her idea of a good time. But the cat afterlife would be scary if it was full of great big turkeys and you were a cat, so hope for fish.

Pooteewheet took Cleo to the vet for euthenasia today. She'd lost so much weight. But more than that, she'd started to leak all over everything. Back of the couch. Arms of the couch. Footrest of the couch. Eryn's rocking chair. Three layers of Eryn's covers and sheets. The floor. Probably our bed. She was in pretty rough shape from that perspective. Pooteewheet held out a long time, cleaning up after her wherever she found a smell.

She has some pictures on her blog post. My favorite picture of Cleo is this one. That was some good Pale Ale!


Pooteewheet has gone off to a mindless movie so she doesn't have to think about anything. Eryn composed songs on the piano about not seeing Cleo anymore and petting her for the last time to get some sadness out of her system. A sad Good Friday at the Scooter household.