(AKA The Piss-Weasel)
You had a good run, but there’s only so long being too stubborn to die will get you.
You lost an eye. Then your hearing. Then both thyroids. Then the use of one leg.
(I’m pretty sure the peeing everywhere was through choice. That was just a power-play to remind us who was boss.)
You were purring at the end, having your ears scratched as we said goodbye and your head lay down for the final time.
The joy of being a rescue cat is that you found us, and we found you. It’s been a wonderful six years.
Goodbye. We love you.