This happened a few days ago, but with all the computer uprisings I've been busy squashing, I forgot to blog about it. One of our two kittens, Sadie Cat, died. If you dig back through the older posts, which you should be doing any damn way, you will find a picture of the furry, black beauty and my baby Rolan in Rolan Little, Urchin of Doom. Our place is no picnic for any animals, especially those whose necks are shaped perfectly for a toting handle. Seriously, Rolan was awe-struck by the efficiency.
Surprisingly, poor Sadie's demise was not at the hand of Rolan or his brother. Rather, she met her end as the result of a plummeting vacuum.
Even though I didn't stay in the damn camper at the recent family reunion and even though I already cleaned up once prior to the trip, washing out all the food, bringing in the supplies and sparkling it up for another year of, well, sitting, was my job. After I sprayed it down with all the fresh smelling, yet toxic cleaning supplies, I vacuumed it once again.
Now as I was in the camper scrubbing away, a brief sprinkling rain fell. While I thought this was a nice, cooling touch to the day, it ended up being a fatal factor for Sadie Cat.
As I was carrying the vacuum back inside our home, Sadie and her sister Sophie tagged along behind me, bouncing playfully beneath my feet. Now, you need to remember that their mother was recently killed before the kittens were weaned, so they are both still quite tiny. Dashing along to finish this chore, my pink flip-flop landed upon the first concrete step onto my porch. However, the remaining moisture made this footing a bit slippery and I fell back a few inches, dropping the vacuum on top of Sadie in the process.
It was awful, truly awful. I instantly jerked the machine, enormous in comparison to her frail body, off her. I knew immediately that this would be fatal. She twitched in pain for a few seconds and it was over. And I felt like a very bad kitty momma.
Ridge came home soon after this incident. Thank goodness he wasn't at home at the time. He has been quite protective of Sophie Cat ever since. Periodically he will chastise me for killing Sadie. With a lowered brow and shaking finger, he reminds me that you have be careful with babies and then demands that I just leave Sophie forever alone.
For the first two days after Sadie went to kitty heaven, Sophie cried at the door. She wandered around the yard and the home looking for her sister. It made me sad, but I think she is fine now. Ridge comforts her with the relentless abuse he calls love.
Clearly, this is just another omen for the dangers of camping. It's like a burning bush or that gypsy who eerily told Julius Caesar, "Beware the Ides of March." Or at least that's the argument I'm gonna use the next time Rowdy tries to drag me out in that bullshit.