Rosie is dead. Janet took her to the vets earlier today. The decision to terminate her life was relatively easy. She was weak. She was almost certainly in pain. She was in extreme old age.
It's sad. I've shed tears. What else to say? I don't subscribe to any dubious theory of an after-life... serious talk of this nature leaves me exasperated. You can't know, you fuckers, so what do you prattle on for? It's all very simple. Life is animated. If it ceases to be so, we call this death. All communication with the unfortunate (or fortunate depending on their circumstances) ceases. That's it.
I shall try to avoid using cliches regarding her death, saying only, and no doubt inappropriately (after all, she was a cat, dammit) she was a good girl.
How strange to be without a furry dependent.