We none of us planned on it. But Ysabel, I think, had picked her moment. She always slept with me. And she was unusually ‘with me’ last night, but today, surprising both Jane and me, she woke up with serious problems. She stayed for Jane’s birthday, catching, we think, the mood of anticipation and happiness in the house. She stayed for the party, she said her goodbyes last night. Today was the day. We took her to the vet in Efanor’s blanket, by purest accident: we didn’t know which one we’d taken, but she smelled it all over, and that made her happy. She walked into her cage on her own, as she did for every trip. She’s in no more pain or distress now. And I’m just kind of at loose ends, and lost. She and Efanor knew all four of our parents, who now are gone; they knew all the places we’ve lived together, but one; they were there for the move north and there for every trip south. So now we’re hurting, Jane and I, with a pain that’s for both of them. Here’s to two excellent kittehs, and so many, many good years. She’s buried right next to Efanor, beside the pond, under the red Japanese maple, under a shared stone.