I had my first ultrasound yesterday. I'm just about ten weeks and despite my lack of enthusiasm in yesterday's post my heart did jump a little when I saw the little jelly bean tucked away in the gestational sack. It was a neat moment knowing I was seeing it so close to the beginning of it's journey into becoming a being.
When we got home I had a quick nap and was back out the door again for Catherine's Pathfinders (next step after Girl Guides here in Canada) and as we were turning around to head down the driveway my daughter pointed under the back deck laughing.
Since we bought this house we've had a neighbour's cat visit us. She's an older woman and doesn't spend the winter in her house so when she leaves the cat, Angus (also to us he's Crookshanks) comes to our house and we feed, house and even worm him. We've gotten quite attached to him. But we hadn't seen him for a few days and Catherine was delighted to see him then.
Except we knew almost immediately that something was wrong. He didn't move as we pulled up beside him. When I got out and called him, no movement. Catherine got out, crawled under the deck and patted him. He was dead.
We don't know why he died but we do know that in the not-so-great tradition of rural cats he was not fixed and not vaccinated and those factors likely played their parts. Regardless, it was a very tough drive to Pathfinders.
I gave my husband a call when he got home and he picked up Crookshanks so nothing would haul him off during the night and today I'll call the owner's daughter-in-law (the owner is still MIA) to let her know. I'm hoping she'll give us the okay to bury him on our property.
A day of extremes.