GirlzRule
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Post any stories about your pets here =3 (I didn't see a recently created thread for this, sorry though if it's a duplicate.)
I have one, but it's rather sad. Don't read it if you don't want to upset yourself.
~Cinder's Story~
Before my parents adopted me, it was just them in the house. My mom had cats ever since she was a little girl, and she missed them. So that Christmas, my dad adopted a kitten from a friend of his at work whose cat had given birth to kittens, and brought her home as a surprise present. My mom was ecstatic, naturally, and named her Cinders after her shiny grey fur. (Grey, not gray, it's much more elegant)
Cinders was soon joined by another cat who was much older than her. His name was Bluey, named after his pale blue eyes and white fur. He was my mom's mom's cat before she died, and he came into my parents' care because she had no other siblings besides her sister, who was violently allergic to cats.
A few years later, my parents adopted me. The very first day I came home, only three months old at the time, she came right up next to me on the couch and fell asleep. And so began the love of my first ever cat. I loved Cinders. Loved her so much. I played with her every day. I loved her so much. She'd come whenever I called her. I'd brush her fur and stack my stuffed animals on top of her and do little-kid things like that.
Unfortunately I don't remember Bluey, who passed away when I was two. He died at the ripe old age of twenty, which is like living to be one hundred if you're a person, so don't feel sorry for him.
One day when Cinders was about fourteen, I think, she was taken to the vet. I was seven. Cinders had cancer. My old cat, my one real, true friend practically my whole life was going to die.
She suffered. And suffered. We had to give her pills. She was dying. The cancer got so bad it came through her belly skin. She bled wherever she went, not that she went very far. My cat was in so much pain her last few weeks.
I knew my parents were anticipating Cinders' death. My dad had dug a hole out by the pine trees, my mom had lined a box with grey satin, lighter than her fur.
I remember the day she died. My mom decided it was time to put her out of her misery. I had school that day, it was Monday. Cinders always came when I called her, I wanted to say goodbye. She wouldn't come. I called and called for an hour and there was no trace of her anywhere.
My goodbye was a shaky yell "Goodbye, Cinders!" as my mom walked me out the door. It was snowing. Somewhere in my house, a cat waited to die. I cried and cried all day at school but my mom couldn't come get me.
She told me after school that Cinders was sitting right at the top of the stairs when she came home. Waiting to see me. I never got to see her again.
The hole wasn't big enough to fit the box, and the ground had frozen. My dad had to chop at the side of the hole with an axe. Dirt flew everywhere. I clung to my mom and cried.
Cinders has a lovely grave in our backyard now, lined with stones and flowers hand chosen and planted by my me and my parents, under the pine trees where she'll lay forever. She died at age fifteen.
I have two kitties and a puppy now and I love them with all my heart. Got them at the same time, about two months after Cinders died. One's a boy named Butter, and one's a girl named China. The puppy's name is Hershey. Butter's a mutt, China's a half Siamese, and Hershey is a purebred Brittany Spaniel who we got extremely cheap because he was the runt.
My kitties are three months apart in age, they're five now. Hershey is about fifteen months now. He's more than a year old, meaning he's an adult dog now, but he'll always be our puppy.
Animals aren't just pets. They're family, treat them like it. Remember to love them with all your heart <3
I have one, but it's rather sad. Don't read it if you don't want to upset yourself.
~Cinder's Story~
Before my parents adopted me, it was just them in the house. My mom had cats ever since she was a little girl, and she missed them. So that Christmas, my dad adopted a kitten from a friend of his at work whose cat had given birth to kittens, and brought her home as a surprise present. My mom was ecstatic, naturally, and named her Cinders after her shiny grey fur. (Grey, not gray, it's much more elegant)
Cinders was soon joined by another cat who was much older than her. His name was Bluey, named after his pale blue eyes and white fur. He was my mom's mom's cat before she died, and he came into my parents' care because she had no other siblings besides her sister, who was violently allergic to cats.
A few years later, my parents adopted me. The very first day I came home, only three months old at the time, she came right up next to me on the couch and fell asleep. And so began the love of my first ever cat. I loved Cinders. Loved her so much. I played with her every day. I loved her so much. She'd come whenever I called her. I'd brush her fur and stack my stuffed animals on top of her and do little-kid things like that.
Unfortunately I don't remember Bluey, who passed away when I was two. He died at the ripe old age of twenty, which is like living to be one hundred if you're a person, so don't feel sorry for him.
One day when Cinders was about fourteen, I think, she was taken to the vet. I was seven. Cinders had cancer. My old cat, my one real, true friend practically my whole life was going to die.
She suffered. And suffered. We had to give her pills. She was dying. The cancer got so bad it came through her belly skin. She bled wherever she went, not that she went very far. My cat was in so much pain her last few weeks.
I knew my parents were anticipating Cinders' death. My dad had dug a hole out by the pine trees, my mom had lined a box with grey satin, lighter than her fur.
I remember the day she died. My mom decided it was time to put her out of her misery. I had school that day, it was Monday. Cinders always came when I called her, I wanted to say goodbye. She wouldn't come. I called and called for an hour and there was no trace of her anywhere.
My goodbye was a shaky yell "Goodbye, Cinders!" as my mom walked me out the door. It was snowing. Somewhere in my house, a cat waited to die. I cried and cried all day at school but my mom couldn't come get me.
She told me after school that Cinders was sitting right at the top of the stairs when she came home. Waiting to see me. I never got to see her again.
The hole wasn't big enough to fit the box, and the ground had frozen. My dad had to chop at the side of the hole with an axe. Dirt flew everywhere. I clung to my mom and cried.
Cinders has a lovely grave in our backyard now, lined with stones and flowers hand chosen and planted by my me and my parents, under the pine trees where she'll lay forever. She died at age fifteen.
I have two kitties and a puppy now and I love them with all my heart. Got them at the same time, about two months after Cinders died. One's a boy named Butter, and one's a girl named China. The puppy's name is Hershey. Butter's a mutt, China's a half Siamese, and Hershey is a purebred Brittany Spaniel who we got extremely cheap because he was the runt.
My kitties are three months apart in age, they're five now. Hershey is about fifteen months now. He's more than a year old, meaning he's an adult dog now, but he'll always be our puppy.
Animals aren't just pets. They're family, treat them like it. Remember to love them with all your heart <3
