This is a story about death, and cats, and how things go.
Miss Kitty died last week. She was the feral cat whose kittens I rescued, then had spayed, then fed and greeted daily for over 13 years. The story of her death is sad and a little gross and ends up okay at the end. Well, as okay as these sorts of stories go. So don't say you haven't been warned.
I didn't name her Miss Kitty. About five neighbors ago, the very nice man next door helped me buy a humane cat trap and we trapped and neutered a bunch of stray cats in the area. He's the one who called the skinny black girl cat with a little white on her chest, "Miss Kitty." The name stuck.
