Binky died last night.

Binky died last night. While we were upstairs watching America's Funniest Home Videos and a re-run of Men of a Certain Age.

Binky

Binky, the Chat

He got on our bed like he always does in the evening.

But this time... he died.

We don't know why. There were no marks or indications of trauma. He just died. He was only six years old.

I thought Moggie, who is at least three years older than he is, would die first. I was prepared for the eventual death of Moggie, but not for the death of Binky.

Neither of us was.

Brian found him last night. Today I took him to the veterinarian's to be cremated.

Binky innaBox

The story of Binky: A co-worker found him at a work site, and brought him to me. Binky was smaller than my hand; his eyes were just barely opened. I had about $7 to my name til payday or Brian came home, whichever came first.

So I went to the pet store and managed to buy a baby animal's bottle and a box of animal milk. ("Try Esbilac instead, Ma!")

Binky was in my coat pocket in the store - he was THAT small. When we got home, he attacked the bottle - drank it all gone. He slept with me that night, cocooned in an old felt beret to keep him safe.

When Brian got home, a couple of days later, I broke the news that we had a third kitty. BUT, I said, we won't keep him. I'll just get him off the bottle, and then we'll give him away.

Brian said, 'that's good!"
But then he fell in love with Binky.

They were best buds. They played together while Brian was doing his laundry yesterday.

Binky & Moggie, once only.

We didn't know he was going to die. If we had, we would have taken him to the vet; we would have stayed with him; we wouldn't have let him die.

I hate that he's dead.

RIP, Binky...
Hugs/mj

ps When I think of Binky now, I have these lines from Bruce Springsteen's song, Bobby Jean, going through my head:

"I wished I would have known 

I wished I could have called you
Just to say goodbye...." Binky.