The two things that made Sunday memorable part 2

The second was a tragedy and causes me much sadness.

It went like this. Sunday was the day Andy first saw me since Friday morning. When we were alone in a building together he said he had to tell me something, and then followed it with, "oh god, I don't know how to tell you this. Come and sit down."

I didn't want to sit down. I knew it was something bad. I told him to tell me. He lead me to a couch and sat down on the coffee table across from me. I saw it in his eyes.

It's KiKi?
Yes.
No, oh no. She's hurt?
Yes, and...
No. She's not...
I'm so sorry baby, she's gone.

I miss her. It hurts.

A man found her across the street. He knocked on doors in the neighborhood until he knocked on our door. Andy said she looked like she was sleeping, she was still a little bit warm as he carried her back home. That night they buried her in the back yard.

I keep waiting for her to come home. To scratch at the back door. To jump on the bed with me. To purr by my head. To curl up between us. To come home.

She was my baby. She was my friend. She was my Kitty Pryde. My KiKi. My Chooch.
I miss her.