And Then There Were Four

I have four delightful, frustrating cats: Naomi is Arwen's littermate, and likes to bully David. Ninja is a fine black cat, the most cheerful cat I have ever known. Nuit is Ninja's littermate, and very sweet, except for her hobby of bullying Lady Jane Grey, and I really wish she'd stop that. Lady Jane Grey has been auditioning for the role of "best cat, grey," but keeps on getting intimidated by Nuit. This is a problem I need to solve.

Arwen died around noon on Saturday at the vet's, at my instigation. At the moment, I feel just fine, not upset at all. On the other hand, I have carefully replaced her footstool at the foot of my bed, after I used it for something, and have not yet thrown out her thyroid medication in the fridge. I'm still pretending.

The title also fits my dead cats, come to think of it. Arwen is the fourth cat I've had to let go. Ember, Lilith, Cholmondley, and now Arwen. I miss them all very much.