Feline Eulogy

 Here's a story about my cat:

 You know how cats will often bring 'offerings'? Our cats weren't much for that, but when they did it, they went big. They brought in fish, which we think they stole or were gifted from people fishing in the river out back, and a clutch of live baby hedgehogs. One of them once herded a live wild hare through our cat-flap; We're still not sure how he managed that.

 While Pandæmonium, the male one, brought live mice in and lost them all over the place, Delirium was too effective a huntress to share her kills with us, except for the one time she brought a trophy:

 A huge rat head - just the decapitated head, which she dropped right in the middle of our kitchen floor facing upwards. It looked, for all intent and purposes, as if it were just poking its head up from a hole. Only a few drops of blood spoiled the illusion.

 It was made even funnier because otherwise she was the most poised, dignified feline you could imagine; Everyone called her Princess, and she held court on our whole street.

 We named her after a Sandman character, but we should have called her May; she's a horror movie cat.

The face of a killer.

 Here's another horrific fact which we've been forced to become acquainted with in the last couple of years: between modern medicine and their sheltered lives, these days cats live way beyond their sell-by date. Their internal organs just aren't made to last that long. Delirium stopped eating properly a few days ago, and due to other conditions she was already under two kilograms - skin and bones. So we've had to make the decision every pet owner dreads.

 For a second fucking time, after Panda got cancer a few years ago. This afternoon will be her last.

 Eighteen years is not a bad run... I guess. She deserved a century.

 I thought I might as well celebrate her slasher glory days in this modest way. Here's to you, Delirium. Your reign was long and absolute, and none whom raised your psychotic urges ever saw you coming.

 We'll miss you.