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Bunk died early yesterday morning.

I miss her. I spilled some cereal this morning and thought, oh, Bunk’ll get it. Expected her to be waiting at the door when I got home from market. Looked for her to come running when I opened the closet door, where we keep her food. Finally I just emptied out her cabinet, gave her food to Cynthia, cleaned out her litter box and tucked her dishes away. I can’t keep looking at her full food bowl.

She had a good life and a relatively quick end, but I hate that she was at the vet when she died. She probably would have wanted to be on her own anyway, but I wish she had been at home. I wish we’d been with her.

We just buried her. Between the coop and the compost pile, where those tiny, wild purple flowers come up every spring. She used to sit right in them and wait for voles.

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Love you, Bunky.

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