Remembering Bandit

I love these photos of Bandit because as sweet as she looks, this girl took absolutely no shit from anyone.

One minute she would allow herself to be stroked and loved and her long silky fur brushed, and seemingly for no reason at all, except maybe to herself in her weird kitty brain, she’d lash out and inflict serious damage with her teeth or claws.

Late in life, Bandit was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and chronic renal failure. With the help of a great vet, we did all we could to extend her quality of life as long as possible, but on July 26, 2010, at the age of thirteen, there was no denying that her journey as my spiritual kitty daughter had come to an end. The doc came over and assisted her transition over the Rainbow Bridge.

Bandit is the one I still dream about; freaky lucid dreams as if she’s still here with me.

Rest in peace, my furry little soulmate.

4 thoughts on “Remembering Bandit

  1. The single major downside to loving our pets is knowing that we will outlive them, though these days, I wonder about that. Still, we have lost so many — two during the lockdown alone. I dream of them all and cry when I see their pictures.

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