I woke up yesterday to something I have been dreading for several years. My 18 year old cat Sheba had passed away. It was expected because she was old and then again it never is really expected, is it? I am never good at losing pets. I never quite get over it. Sheba will be especially hard since I have been with her almost every day for nearly 19 years. Britton found a box and buried her under a large stone cross we have in the yard. Neither of us felt we could actually have a little memorial for her and say a few word over her grave just yet because we were far too upset.
Sometime soon I will probably write about what a great and smart cat she was and how she at times seemed to think she was a dog, but I need some time to pass first because it would be too hard right now. I don't even think I can bear to post her photo on this post because I would have to see it to do that, which could only bring another flood of tears.
She seemed to have died peacefully in her sleep, something I had hoped for. I never wanted to have some vet tell me that she needed to be put to sleep, or to have to make that decision. I wanted her to die peacefully at home and not afraid in some vets office. So I am very thankful for that.
I am also thankful that I got to keep her so long. It will just take a while to adjust to life without her.