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May 1, 2010

As soon as my sister heard my voice on the phone, she knew.  “I’ll be right over,” she said. 

She found me weeping over Henry’s still body, my hands on her soft fur, rocking back and forth, repeating “My little love” over and over again.

We wrapped the little cat in a soft, blue towel and drove over to the family property with Henry on my lap.

Our brother was on his way to work, but he started digging the grave under the chinkapin tree where his dog and Megan’s dog and cat are also at rest.