"What am I going to do?" Kit-tay meowed sadly. She wasn't looking at the glorious rainbow, nor the sparkling flowing streams, not even the wonderous green meadows or hills. Her eyes were turned toward earth, and her miserable, grieving mother.

"There's nothing new you can do." was the answer given in unison by the sympathetic Fur Babies.

They all knew this new pain Kit-tay was feeling; for all had watched their parents gut-wrenching mourning.

"But I'm the one that comforts her." Kit-tay argued. ""When she was in high school, with all of the emotions and heartache of being a teen girl and growing up, I was there to dry all her tears with my fur. When she married and left her mother's house for a fresh life, I accompanied her there. When she was in pain during labor with all three of her children, I sat next to her, nuzzling her face and purring in her ear. I've always known when she was getting sick, even before she did. I've always been there when she has been hurt. Now I can not get to her. She is too far out of reach."

"There's nothing new you can do." was the same answer given.

Kit-tay turned her attention back to her mother once more. Slowly, her mom began going through pictures on the computer. An especially special one caught Sarah's eye, and she clicked on it, turning it into the desktop wallpaper.

"What is she doing?" one of the Fur Babies asked.

"That's me." Kit-tay answered. "It was taken as I was curled up with her middle human child. He was only 4 months old at the time."

Kit-tay carefully watched as her mother managed a small smile through all of her tears.

"Do you see, now?" the crowd asked Kit-tay. "There's nothing new you can do, but nothing new needs to be done. Her memories of you will comfort her and slowly let her heal. Likewise, your memories of her will sustain you until the day she comes to the bridge to get you. Living and loving in each other's hearts, just as you have for the past fourteen years on earth, is all that needs to be done until you are reunited. Until then, in your hearts, you are both still very near."

Kit-tay glanced once more at her mother, allowing a small purr to escape as she raised her paw as if to touch her mother's face once more. In her heart, she knew the Fur Babies spoke the truth. Bound through love, she and her mother were no farther apart now then they have ever been.

"I love you." she meowed before grabbing a tiny jingling ball with her front paws. As play began on the bridge once more, she still didn't miss the echoed answer.

"I love you, Kit-tay."

Kit-tay would have been sixteen in two weeks. I received her on her second birthday, and she was the most faithful, loving companion for two weeks shy of fourteen years. Night before last, she had a stroke. I rushed her to an emergency pet hospital, but was told that it would be best to let her go. I already knew that, though. I held her the entire time, and though it broke my heart to pieces, I sent her to the bridge.

R.I.P. Kit-tay
9/5/09