Mourning
Budget's dead.
So I don't have to repeat it, i'll explain. I came home this afternoon to Kristy crying outside and mumbling incoherantly. All I got was 'kitten' and I knew something was wrong.
When I came into the house, there lie Budget (one of the smallest gray kittens only 9 weeks old or so) on the floor in the middle of the living room. Under his head was a large pool of blood and he'd soiled himself. Kristy could barely talk so I had her go into the back room while I looked him over.
From what we figure, he was on the entertainment center and he lost his balance, falling and taking a large peice of wooden art with him. The art weighs nearly 10 lbs on it's own and it struck him in the temple.
He made it a few feet away before he must have sneezed near the white shelf and started bleeding out his nose. When shock took over, he lost his bowels and passed out. And that is how Kristy found him, probably somewhere around an hour after he died.
I know that sounds all logical and kinda gross, but I don't want to answer any grotesque questions. No he wasn't injured in any deforming way, just bloodied on one side of his head and the poop.
We held him for a little while and cried. We'd just started to get the little kitten out of his shell.
Now, all that is left aside the silence in the apartment is a stain of blood that won't come out and the mournful yowls of a mother cat searching for the kitten that she'll never find.
Goodbye little Budget, we loved you.