Poor kitty

Our kitty Misha didn't make it through her last bout of sickness. She died the morning we officially started back to work here, which was not a good start to the work year.

My friend Emily's cat had kittens back around Thanksgiving, and we had already offered to take one, so on Saturday she dropped off a little calico. Despite the fact that we all had our reservations about getting a new cat so soon, she's won us over with her ridiculous cuteness.

We've been spoiling her all weekend long as she gets passed from one person to the next, cuddled and played with. Today, we were gone all day. As soon as we walked in the door, I went to check on her. She was meowing, loudly, indignantly. I checked in her basket. It was empty. Behind the washing machine where Stephen says she likes to sleep. Not there. She sounded closer though. Then I looked down. We have a utility sink in the laundry room, and I couldn't get it to drain the other day when I was cleaning. It has an inch or 2 of nasty water at the bottom. And there was our sweet kitten, standing in the water, bedraggled, wet, smelly, and shivering.

I fished her out, brought her upstairs, dried her off with a blow-drier, and then sandwiched her between my shirt and my stomach so she would warm up. She stayed there for a long time, shivering anytime I peeked to look at her, but now she's back to her happy self, curled up on my lap and cleaning off the nasty water she fell in.

Isn't she cute?