Besiktas

I have lost her. The vet called a while ago to tell me that she died this morning. She was seven, a campus born kitten who chose to adopt me and whose main joy in life was sleeping and cuddling. My poor little darling. Sleep well.


20:00: Elizabeth knows. She is pacing the flat, sometimes with a bushy tail as if she saw something to creep her out, and is now, for the first time that I have ever seen her, curled up in one of the places (a cardboard box on top of my book shelf) that Besiktas loved to snooze in.