It grieves me profoundly to have to tell you all that our beloved Rosalie passed away, suddenly and utterly without warning, on October 17. Just that previous Monday, after exhaustive testing, she was given a resoundingly and unambiguously clean bill of health.
All else I can say at the this time is that, by all the evidence, she passed away suddenly, with a merciful lack of distress–on her part, at least.
We, all of us here, are diminished by her absence.
God willing, I will be able to give her a proper eulogy, one she richly deserves, in the new year. For now I hope one anecdote will suffice.
The Saturday after Thanksgiving, I was sitting upstairs at my computer when I felt the ephemeral tickle of the passage of a long-haired cat on my ankle. I said, "Hi, Simon."
Simon replied with a meow—from the bedroom, across the foyer, 20 feet away.
I am decidedly not a mystical, metaphysical person, but by that very same token I take as good evidence that which I experience directly through my senses.
And my senses combined with my logic tell me that who I felt on my ankle that Saturday was Rosalie.
It's a great comfort to know that she's still here.
