Lucy

We are going to keep it short and sweet today. I put my cat Lucy to sleep today. She had come down with toxoplasmosis and her liver was failing. She fought the good fight, as she had done her whole life, but it was time to let my precious little bitch go.

 

Lucy the first night I brought her home. She was in love with the waterbed, which is where she spent a great deal of time.

 

 

Lucy first came into my life 2 years ago. I was moving. She was a stray and jumped in my truck with that look of hers when she really wants something. She stole my heart then and there. I took her to my new apartment, and bathed her. Boy did she stink. Over the next few month, Lucy and I bonded with late night rub downs and her staring at me while I slept. She was growing and growing. Perhaps a little too much. She was indeed pregos. My little slut was gonna have some babies.

And that she did. Right on my suitcase in my closet. She birth out 4 little ones–Dewey, Mí, Levi and Ella. All boys. She loved her kids, but after a while she was ready to go back on the prowl. Standard. She’d sit in front of the mirror and get stare at herself. Admiring her beauty of course. She would be standoffish as hell with strangers, unless it was a man. Then she was all over that shit like white on rice. She’d walk up and just roll in the floor. Working her back around like the hoe bag she was. She loved the men. LOVED THEM.

Over the days that she lived on this earth she developed a few signature traits. Her slut roll of course, but also her bitch face and princess paw. She was a mark of royalty and she knew it. Crazy ass cat.

So here is to Lucy. She’s gone to meet Jesus and I just bet she’s in a room full of mirrors working it like she owns it. (Hey her nickname wasn’t Lucifer for nothing.)

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