Dobby was a small, beautiful, gray female with huge, green eyes that I found as a kitten eight years ago. She cooed like a dove when I held her, and would have spent every moment in my lap if I had let her. She hid under my feet when it thundered outside, she chattered like she was trying to tell me something when I got home from work, and every morning when I awoke she was sitting patiently on the edge of my bed and gazing out the window at the trees.
After fighting with all of her, her doctors', and my strength since the first of May, she finally crossed the bridge on June the 20th at around two o'clock. She suffered through assault after assault from a disease that we never identified, even with all of the best care we could provide her. After suffering kidney failure, she seemed to be improving until her breathing suddenly became labored this past Monday evening. The following day, I went to her in the hospital and was told by her doctors that she had little to no chance of recovery. Those doctors wept with me as I brought her home. I spent all the time from when she got home laying beside her, giving her all the love I had. When she was with me, she purred like a kitten and breathed easier, but she weakened all the same. Yesterday she seemed to tell me she was ready to go, and she spent her final minutes laying beside me with my arm around her, gazing out that window at the trees outside. She passed away peacefully in my lap after the local vet arrived to give her mercy. I buried her under a peach tree I planted just for her, and her little grave will soon be a wonderful garden of catnip. My heart is buried right there with her.
After fighting with all of her, her doctors', and my strength since the first of May, she finally crossed the bridge on June the 20th at around two o'clock. She suffered through assault after assault from a disease that we never identified, even with all of the best care we could provide her. After suffering kidney failure, she seemed to be improving until her breathing suddenly became labored this past Monday evening. The following day, I went to her in the hospital and was told by her doctors that she had little to no chance of recovery. Those doctors wept with me as I brought her home. I spent all the time from when she got home laying beside her, giving her all the love I had. When she was with me, she purred like a kitten and breathed easier, but she weakened all the same. Yesterday she seemed to tell me she was ready to go, and she spent her final minutes laying beside me with my arm around her, gazing out that window at the trees outside. She passed away peacefully in my lap after the local vet arrived to give her mercy. I buried her under a peach tree I planted just for her, and her little grave will soon be a wonderful garden of catnip. My heart is buried right there with her.