This morning I had three kitties.
The Empress, Prolix P. Hickman (aka Lixie), age 17 years, who has been dwindling for a year or more, presented symptoms this weekend that told me it was time to help her bring her life to a painless, peaceful ending. She went to sleep in my arms this afternoon, with my words of love and thanks in her ear. The veterinarian and his helper were wonderfully kind and understanding.
My other two kitties, Adams (the boy) and O'Keefe (the girl), are siblings. They're Maine Coon cats, fluffy and ten years old; just in the past year O'Keefe has blossomed into a beautiful cat with resplendent ruff and glossy black overcoat. It was almost like she was getting ready to become the new Empress. She didn't get any smarter. Adams isn't very bright, either. They're both as smart as they need to be, though. They're my sweet little cats.
I didn't think having just two would feel so different than having three.