If you don't already know, I've had my cat, Zoya, for a few years now. She's, like, the dictator of the universe (in her mind). I always hated scooping her litter box, having her scare the wits out of me when she jumps out from behind the laundry basket, and having to feed her first when my stomachs been rumbling for five minutes straight. But I had good moments with her too. Like when she was in my room one night, and something fell (noisily) off my bed. She jumped about 5 feet straight up! With fur and limbs flying everywhere. And the time where my dad's relatives were staying over with their two dogs. My brother had left my parents bedroom door open as he was walking in, and my cat tried to get out. Luckily, the couch cussions blocked the entrance in and out of the hallway, but the dogs scared her and my brother, and they both went running into my parents' room. *giggle*

But recently, she started throwing up alot. And she wouldn't eat. My parents took her to the vet, thinking it might be a hairball, or something stuck. But the vet said it was her liver. She's been crying every five minutes today, and she was nearly beyond comfort. The medicine wasn't working, partially because she was spitting it back out. So there was only one option left.

Currently, my parents are at the vet. To... you know... put her down. *cry* She was the first cat I ever remember getting (though I previously had 3 others), and so it really stings. My others cats died when I was in first and 3rd grade. Well, now I'm not in elementary school, and it hurts alot worse. It will be a while before my mom lets us get another cat. *sob* I'M GONNA MISS HER SO MUCH!!!!!!! *sobsob, crycry* ...

~an extremely sad Zoey-chan