I’ve known for months that I was slowly losing Dagny, but that doesn’t make her death any easier.
I had a bad feeling about her when I left for work today. When I went to check on her first thing this morning, she lifted her head and looked at me, but then she settled back into the same box where she had been sleeping with Merlin late last night — with her paw wrapped around her bigger brother. (See the photo below.) She showed no interest in getting up and moving to my bed, which is what we did every other morning.
I got home as soon as I could Wednesday evening and I felt a lump in my throat as I got out of the car, because I feared the worst. Moments later, I found her cold and still — seemingly relaxed in the same position, in the same box, where I left her earlier in the day.
She was a small cat, but she’s left a large hole in this family.

Most of nature follows instinct, but humans often ignore voice
Time for anger? Dissent is good, but ask what the dissenters stand for
Mundane expressions of love matter more than movie versions
Are government employee unions making the rest of us unsafe?
Lack of ability to think plays a role in public acceptance of higher taxes
Finding your own authentic voice is riskier than copying everybody else
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
‘This path leads to somewhere I think I can finally say, I’m home’
When love finally dies, it’s like a fever breaks and the pain is gone