Every night when my husband announced he was turning in, Zeb would come running and do a trick we called "skating." You know how cats will get against something and lift their hind leg and slowly drag it across. Zeb would do it on command, every night before my husband went to bed. We called it his figure skating move and would applaud and rate him by how long he held the leg up as he dragged it against my husband's shin. Too funny, and he was a big ham. He loved the attention and would keep it up until hubby told him, "That's enough skating for tonight Time to go to bed."
We're going to miss old Zeb. I know I'll get a grip after a little while, but right now I can't seem to stop crying. I've lost both my babies--my dog, Sam, and now Zeb within the last five months. And Sunday is when we're supposed to go pick up the new puppy. Sometimes I wonder if we need our heads examined. As much as we love our furry children, it always ends in grief, yet we keep going back for more. Zeb was hubby's best friend, and Sam was mine, and I sure do miss having a warm, adoring little critter tagging after my every step and lying next to my feet while I sit at the computer or watch tv. So I guess the reason we keep going back for more heartache time and again is because for the time we do have them with us, they give us such unconditional love. But I'm tellin' ya, there's nothing can break my heart like they do when it's their time to go.