Our final moments. It was one year ago today that, with deep regret and personal turmoil, we had our beloved cat Cowboy put to sleep. Cowboy suffered from Feline Leukemia (FeLV) and developed lymphoma later on. With a weakened immune system, there was no course of treatment that wouldn't cause more damage to his health. We had three short years with him, but we cherished every moment. We first met Cowboy, a disheveled and discarded cat, roaming the streets of Baltimore City. A little worse for wear, he was bone thin and had some jacked up crooked teeth. We were visiting my sister-in-law's house for a Labor Day cookout. Hubby's sister had taken to feeding Cowboy as a stray, and so he liked to hang around her place. Before I had met Cowboy, I had sworn off cats. I thought they were prissy, unfriendly and sneaky creatures, able to cause chaos virtually undetected with their stealthy ninja abilities; leaping fences in a single bound, hiding the sounds of their movements ...
Musings of a Christ-following mom of boys, devoted wife, and dreamer, figuring out how to be a good parent and steward of the arrows in my quiver while navigating the world of indie publishing.