Periwinkle: 3/17/1993 - 9/5/2008

Today was supposed to be a good day. It was a beautiful day, I was feeling great and the electrician was finally here to fix my lights. Today was the day I was going to sit down and begin making up for lost time in drawing my strip. Naturally, seeing that I was about to become happy, the universe chose to rip my heart out and stomp on it instead.

Today's events have left me absolutely devastated, incapable of anything but the most common analogies for sadness and heartbreak. I apologize for the weak literary merit of the post, and I hope you understand. I've been blindsided and coping is out of the question at this point.

Peri had started to look a bit ragged over the past few days, but I had chalked it up to her playing in the (dirty) dog pond. We have several tiny frogs (and the odd, late bloomer tadpole) living in the pond, and I'd caught Peri playing in the water before. Otherwise, she was the same as always: Sweet, loving and smart. When I was reading my book outside, she would come over and sit in my shadow, purring until she fell asleep. Even yesterday she was up to her old habits, begging me to turn on the kitchen faucet or to put ice cubes in her water bowl so she could bat them around.

But today mom discovered a spot of blood on the floor. Peri had started bleeding from her mouth. Our normal vet was away, so I had to drive her across town to a new place. On the way, Peri started to cry - something unusual for a cat who always had a loud purr for everyone, even the vets giving her shots! I dropped her off, talked to the vet and they said they'd give me a call once the results of the bloodwork were in. By the time I got home, they had already called. My mother was crying so hard she couldn't finish the sentence when she tried to talk to me. All I heard was, "she has cancer."

The vet had explained that this cancer was a fast-acting type. A mass had begun growing in Peri's mouth and rapidly expanding. We were told there was nothing that could be done. Not wanting her to suffer, we agreed that she had to be put down. I will likely hate myself for the rest of my life for doing this, but I couldn't see it happen. I couldn't take it, and had to sent my mother to sit with her during her final minutes.

This was *my* cat. I had picked her out and named her on the spot. I had insisted she be brought home with us when the rest of the family had chosen her brother, Striker. This cat had been my companion for more than half my life. I loved her.

Today was supposed to be a good day; the day when I started picking up the pieces and fixing my life. Now I can't stop crying.