Today I had to have my cat Speed put to sleep. She had feline leukemia and neurological issues.
Speed was one of a litter of three feral cats born in my yard. Her brother John Stewart passed away from similar issues, but I still have her sister Kilowog, my little buddy. When Speed was young she came to live in the house with her brother and sister. She got pregnant and had a litter of kittens, named Sisko, Quark, Daniels, and Tiberius, who were premature and only lived about a month despite my best efforts to bottle feed and nurture them. Speed decided that she wanted to be an outdoor cat for a while. She came back inside during Hurricane Irene in August.
John Stewart, Shran, Rascal, Willie, Detroit, Rose, Nightcrawler, Sisko, Quark, Daniels, and Tiberius are buried in my yard. Smokey, Nefertiti, and Cerridwen all left the house one day and never came back. Speed’s ashes will rest on my Bast altar.
Kilowog, Havoc, Ash and Byron will carry the kitteh torch and probably bat it underneath the refrigerator.
A priestess of Bast is a priestess of life and death.
When cats die, they go to another dimension, to live in that Old Egypt which was once here but now only exists on that other plane. They go to the land of warm fireplaces, slow mice, chin scratches, and bowls of catnip and milk, to live with Bast and HP Lovecraft, who liked cats more than people.
I really don’t blame him.