second_tears fyn gula "I can take her and have her put down," i said. "no." you said. "she is afraid of the vet. she can die where she feels safe." she slept with you in a cloud of commiseration until she was too weak to jump up to your bed, so you placed her in a basket with one of your shirts as a blanket. when she wasn't in your arms, she could smell you and think you were there when you couldn't be. last night, the illness, like some greedy thief stole her right before your eyes and your second tears fell mingling with the puddle of fluid she expelled in her final gasp of breath. 000315 what's it to you? who go blather from