my makeup may be flaking

AM 9.5 in 1:11 (7:28 per mile)

PM 4 miles in 26:30 (6:38 per mile)

Right before my PM run, my mum called to tell me they had put our cat charlie down. Apparently his kidneys had stopped working and he could no longer eat anything. I knew that he had to die sooner or later but he didn't seem to have aged at all in the last ten years. Charlie was born in a cupboard on December 20th 1994. He was one of 3 kittens that our cat Brindle had that day and the only one we kept. A few months later, Brindle had six more kittens and so for a time we had 8 cats. One of my favourite books when I was little was the 101 dalmations and this was kind of like that.

When we moved to America in August 1997, we naturally brought Brindle and Charlie with us. I guess I should add that we adopted Brindle in September 1993 when she had just been weaned. For two years we rented a house with no cat flap and so we had to leave the cats out at night (because they were outdoor cats). We lived in perpetual fear that they would get eaten by raccoons, which we discovered were not as lovable as cartoons had led me to believe.

My cats were both incredibly friendly. They would leap into the laps of complete strangers. I thought this was normal behavior for cats for a very long time until people became to comment about how nice my cats were.

Brindle and Charlie were very different from each other. When Brindle was hungry she would go hunt and I would often see her at the park while out running. She would bring dead birds to my sister. When Charlie was hungry he would kind of wander around the and meow pitifully, then roll onto his back to make sure we could see how helpless he was. It was unclear why he did this as we always fed him at the same time everyday. Brindle was an efficient, gracile, killing machine. Charlie was kind of a wuss, but what can you expect from a neutered tom cat?

In 2003, Brindle was mauled by a giant stray tom cat and had to undergo surgery. She had to wear the "cone" of shame for a few weeks and I had to give her medicine. Trying to get cats to do things that they don't want to do is incredibly difficult. Brindle hated taking her medicine, but she would always let me catch her and do her best to swallow it. She recovered briefly but when I returned from my freshman year of college she was clearly dying. She had lost a lot of weight and had very little energy. She couldn't keep any of her food down and a couple of times she was found collapsed in the park before some kind soul took her to the vet.

During this whole time, I kept insisting that my parents put her down. The other option was a $50000 operation that may not have worked. In any case, I didn't like seeing how much she was suffering.

One day, I came home from running and found that Brindle had collapsed while while trying to go through her flap. I carried her upstairs and gave her some water. She died a few hours later.

Charlie, on the other hand, soldiered on for another 7 years and was closing in on his 17th birthday when he started to go downhill. I told my parents in no uncertain terms that this time they were to put him down.

Anyway RIP charlie, I'll miss the watching you hunt dragonflies.