Just a little over 3 months ago, we lost our cat Nellie. We knew that was coming and it was still hard. But now we've lost Charlie, too.
My wife sums it all up so much more beautifully than I can at her blog:
This morning we are mourning the loss of Charlie who died unexpectedly at the vet's. He was being treated for a respiratory infection, and we thought he might be able to come home today. Everyone, including his doctor, is shocked. ...
Charlie was such a wonderful kitty. He came to us a few months before the April tornado. He was outside when the tornado happened, and we missed him for several days until he came running back one day with a half purr, half meow. He didn't seem to hunt too many animals-- moles, anoles, and geckos mostly. I don't think he ever caught a bird. He didn't like dogs, but he grew to like Bailey. They greeted each other with a nose kiss each morning, and Charlie rubbed up against Bailey's legs. He purred for everyone in the family, even Bailey. He purred when you looked at him. We will miss him dearly.
Read it all and see her pictures of Charlie.
I loved Nellie, but Charlie converted me to being a true cat lover. He showed up one day in early 2008 and decided that we were his family. And right from the start he was the sweetest cat I can imagine. He was ridiculously affectionate, loving to be held like a baby and purring in response to just being around us. And, of course, we spoiled him rotten.
I dreaded having to tell my son and daughter about Charlie's death when they got home from school today. It would've been easier to have a root canal without anesthesia. They're doing okay, but we all feel wounded and grief-stricken.
Death sucks. The "last enemy," indeed (1 Cor. 15:26).