After a whirlwind trip to the Cameroon in Africa (details on another site), we returned home with spirits bounding high with reckless abandon. Thirty-six hours of airplanes and rented vans has the tendency to do that to a person. So, there we were, as happy as mantisis in an ant migration, when the hammer struck the anvil.
Our cat, Lila, was struck by a car this afternoon. We buried her not two hours after our arrival. Unlike most cats, she never hissed or clawed, even when children were pulling her fur. She obeyed when needed, meowed when spoken to, and accompanied us often as a bedroom pal. She was also the only animal I have ever entertained the thought of keeping when I move out in two years.
Farewell, Lila. You will be missed greatly.