Febuary (spelled that way on purpose) is the month we found out that Brody had an ominous mass in his bladder that likely meant cancer, which meant that he probably had only months left with us instead of the years that his natural lifespan should have allowed. I was obviously upset by the news, but I held onto the hope that the diagnosis would be proven wrong, or that Brody would beat the odds. He seemed fine, after all, and I have a stubborn sense of optimism and hope in the face of death.
On top of the loveseat cushions was one of his favorite spots so that he could look out the windows or watch what was going on in the house from a good vantage-point.
"Oh gosh, not you again! Leave. me. alone."
Keeping an eye on me from the stairs, which offer easy escape. We played this game often.
Brody almost always won. #crazycatlady
Not to be forgotten is Bentwood! Brody and Bentwood were shelter buddies in Connecticut so we adopted them together. They've been together most of their lives and they're the best of buddies. Bentwood is gentle, shy, and sweet while Brody is sassy, mischievous, and entertaining. I cried my eyes out for Bentwood's loss when Brody passed away.
Selfies with my prisoner.
He may have been thinking, "Let this tumor kill me sooner rather than later, please."
I don't know how Brody feels about it, but I know I'd do anything to be able to hold him in my arms again!
