All I could say of hours was Holy Fuck. She was normal, lively, loud, eating heartily, jumping around on the sofa, from table to chair then tipped over, tongue out, giving a death wail.

She had done this a year before, with gums and tongue pale and panting, but we stroked her by the fire and over the hour whatever seizure it was passed. She ate and drank and the next day seemed normal.

This time we did CPR and nothing. She was breathing then she wasn’t. A matter of minutes. A heart attack we assume.

Inconceivable speed.

We buried her by the pine tree with catnip and a stone to mark her grave.