I am a little unreasonably upset about Neil Gaiman's cat, Zoe.
Part 1:
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2010/01/zoe.htmlInterlude:
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2010/01/small-cat-story-and-tabs-to-close.htmlPart 2:
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2010/01/zoe-part-two.htmlUpdate:
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2010/01/zoe-update.htmlOlga's Arrival:
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2010/01/olgas-arrival.htmlLorraine's tribute:
http://blog.fabulouslorraine.com/2010/01/just-zoe-at-end.htmlOlga's Visit:
http://olganunes.com.s55522.gridserver.com/2010/01/tonight.phpWe say goodbye:
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2010/01/and-in-end.html (Don't click if you don't feel like getting weepy. The short story is, she has an inoperable tumour.)
I know I'm a cat dork and I get weepy about all sorts of cats, really. I guess it's a combination of the impending death of a cat that her owners and friends loved SO MUCH that they all write little cute stories of her adorableness, combined with the sheer love that one of my favorite authors expresses for a very small cat.
I know there's more important things going on in the world, but this just hit me.