so my cat from back home died last night. me and my brothers never really gave him a name so we called him kitty. yeah, i know, kinda lame. but he was a pretty tough cat, got his ear mangled a few times, had some weird eye infection in the last year or so but he was still going on pretty strong. he followed my grandparents back home one day when they went for a walk and he’s been at my house ever since.
my mom had told me that he had not been eating recently and he wasn’t moving around a lot but in the last couple of days, he had been really hungry and been a bit more active. however, that’s what didn’t get him. my dad said that he let the cat out last night and he didn’t come back this morning. my mom was a bit worried (even though she said she never really liked him) and it turns out my neighbor found him while jogging in the park next to my house. my parents think a coyote got to him because he was all mangled up.
i was supposed to go back home this weekend but i cancelled at the last minute because of work (and i’ve been really tired). part of me wishes that i had gone back home to see him one last time but another part is a bit relieved because i don’t think i could have seen him messed up. seems like such an odd way to go considering how long he’s been around. he was getting old and it’s not a huge surprise that he’s gone but it still sucks.