My kitten died an year ago, on May. Her name was Shirley, like the poppy flower. Now when I look at poppies in the field, moved by the wind, I know that she is free. I feel she had loved me as much as I loved her. That her illenesses are not hurting her anynmore.
I would like to hug her again but it wouldn't be right. I hope that tonight she will visit me in my dreams.
I'm crying a lot, and her cat siblings are checking on me, as she used to do. I may be crying even more.