One of my kitties, Spitfire, who I had since he was a week old, whom I raised one an eye dropper when his mother was killed, died 11 days ago. He was 10 years old. God I loved that cat. We decided to have him cremated. Yesterday I had to go pick up his ashes. I cried my heart out, again, when I saw the little jar that held his ashes. Once I calmed down enough to leave I drove around for 45 minutes and reminiscence about all the memories I had with him. When I got home I felt such a deep sense of closure. I will always miss him, but for now the grief is more bearable.
