When a pet ages out and passes it is hard on the entire family and often other friends that know your pet. We had an unusual thinking Hemingway and the only way I found is to write the memory moments and keep it to recall her life with our family.
Once our family had the amazing Hemingway. She was a fancy cat, not because she cost alot (free) but because she know she was a C.A.T. Her lineage was special of course, a leopard lynx, six toed C.A.T. When clomping down the stairs you would think you had a loud heard of rompers, it was the C.A.T.
Those many toes she put to work on countless occasions to hunt unsuspecting birds, squirrels, snakes, lizards adn even her last one – a peacock, for she was the C.A.T.
The trophies would be half eaten proudly placed on the stoop in the doorway entrance, a love offering from the C.A.T.
At Breckenridge she came home to join the family. Her first home, then school in a far away place put the family in moving mode. This is when we discovered Hemingway did not like to ride in a moving vehicle.
Her trips to the vet were full of moaning and crying in only the way of a very discontented C.A.T.
She moved to Sheffield and became a moma cat, probably brought on by the wandering howling the yards looking for her matrimonial daddy C.A.T. She had two little ones, Titus was her daddy’s colors of white and gray. His head was bigger than a teenagers. Titus was a C.A.T.’s cat. Hemingway then moved to the hills in Nashville and found ground squirrels; she attempted to diminish the population. The huntress C.A.T.
In Brentwood, the year was small and the dogs were large sabers………..post 1 of 2