This isn’t the post I thought I’d be writing this evening. My dear sweet Connor died earlier this evening after a stroke that rendered his legs unable to move. I am so glad I was there when it happened because he would have been terrified to not be able to move. He’d been declining for a while now, and had fallen a few times. His appetite wasn’t great and I knew he had been in some pain recently, which made me very unhappy.
I adopted Connor from the city pound soon after I moved back to Baltimore from the UK. He had been at the shelter for six weeks, waiting for the right person. His philosophy in life was “I wish I was somewhere other than here…” as he always wanted to get out. He leapt out windows, both house and car, got out onto roofs, took off at any opportunity and was nicknamed Houdini.
He ate my gutter-guards, my mini-blinds, a windowsill or two, and a door, but other than that, was pretty good. He shed like no-body’s business and even this morning, I was brushing him and letting his hair fly for the birds to use for their nests.
He’s been sleeping so much and so deeply recently, that he doesn’t even hear me come home, and he’s startled when he wakes. When he’s totally and completely sleeping and relaxed, his little pink tongue comes out. And that’s what happened this evening, with his beloved Baby with him.
Rest in peace, my sweet baby.