Ruby Tuesday the elderkitty is no more. She has ceased to be. She has expired, gone to meet her maker. She has, in no particular order: hopped the twig, snuffed it, bit the dust or, if you will, gone on to the great litterbox in the sky
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And hopefully getting them from St. Peter and anyone else who lets her in (and if she's like most cats, back out again a few minutes later).
Deepest sympathies and hugs as you may wish them on the loss of a dearly beloved family member, from one who is facing the sad likelihood of losing one or more of his own household's four-footed members within the next two or three years due to their advancing age and infirmity. (Lilith, our calico senior cat, and our Maine coon Rosita are both 15 and Ari the Humongous Orange Tabby™, Lily's son, is 14; and poor Rosie has a thyroid condition which keeps her alarmingly thin despite a daily regimen of extra food and medication and the highly skilled, genuinely caring treatment of vets on two continents.)
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Love you.
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She will be missed.
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