I wrote the following on Friday:
This morning I found her curled up in her litterbox. I'm guessing that she either got in there and was too confused to get out, or she was just too tired to bother.
* * * * * * *
We leave for vacation on Monday. Meaning, of course, that everything now is a scramble to get things done before we go. I have work to deliver to Special Collections this afternoon. My wife has a hard deadline for completing a project this afternoon, and then another bunch of stuff that has to be done before we head out for the airport.
This is, in other words, no time for a crisis with one of the pets.
But life happens on its own schedule.
So does death.
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