And then there were five.

Stoatle was hit by a car this morning. I looked out to see if there were painters in the driveway and saw her body and her white-tipped tail in the road directly in front of our driveway...she was headed home from some great adventure, no doubt. I wish we had photos.

We knew this, we've always known that animals die when you let them outside - we've discussed it and we knew. During the summer, Stoat refuses to stay in for any longer than she had to...she'd quack to come in, eat, then quack insistently to go out. She had grubbling to do in the driveways, she had pooping to do in the neighbor's flowerpots, she was her own cat.

We had her from a baby - Alexis heard her one afternoon while walking down State street. She was squeeking and beeping from under a bush, calling out, and when Alexis gave chase, Stoat ran directly into traffic...and Alexis ran directly after her. We brought her home and she slept in the collar of my nightgown for weeks. We named her Sad-sad, and she was a total hit - everybody at the Co-op wanted snuggle time. We had her from the beginning, and maybe this is why she's always been so happy, so self-assured, so purry and batty and rubby and loving.

We buried her in the vegetable patch I'd dug by the garage, in a nest of straw and with notes from us. We wanted to give her a toy, but she didn't play with toys really. The whole world was her playground, she didn't need toys.

This is the story of Sad-sad McGraw,
The saddest kitty you ever saw.
She lost her maw, she hurt her paw...
Went on a bender and broke the law.

You will be missed, my Strudle.