R.I.P. cat Spunky

Our cat died today after very brief illness. Long-time readers might recall when her litter-mate died. My wife picked P.J. and Spunky from the litter of six born in a woodpile in my brother Bob's backyard around St. Patrick's Day of 1990.

The kids named her Spunky because her "black eye" looked like she'd been in a fight. While she was the more introverted of the pair, she showed spunk when she had a very bad fracture that wound up costing her a leg. For a long time, she'd still hobble all over the house. As a friend suggested, in the middle of the night it sounded like Long John Silver pacing the deck.

As she got older, she spent more and more of her time on the bed. She's shown here with Stepford Spunky.

When I had my usual bagels for breakfast, she liked to lick a dab of cream cheese off my pinky. I expect I'll eat something else tomorrow.