Hadn't expected to start my day burying a kitty, but that's what I have to do in a few minutes and sets the stage for a gloomy day.
When I went out to put breakfast for Thelma, Violet and Tumble, only Violet and Tumble came running. Thelma is always the first one at the milkie bowl. I called and called for her, then went looking for her.
I found her, dead, in the driveway. She was tangled with all sorts of leaves and vines as if she'd run through some vegetation to get away from something. I gave her a cursory examination and couldn't see any wounds, etc. I'm going to look again before I bury her.
She hadn't been dead long because she was still slightly warm. My heart is breaking because she was the senior member of the outdoor children and a real loving and gentle girl. She was at least 10-years-old. Her son, Squeakers, was shot and killed a couple of weeks ago.
Porch settin' won't be the same tonight.