It was a night around this time six years ago when I was on my way to pick up the blonde for our first date. I was a stranger in that structure patrolled by twelve paws.
In the darkness of the night, I approached and saw the four paws that caught my attention.
She seemed friendly, so I made the mistake of touch and was greeted by a swift little bite. A bite that would lead to six years of on and off belly rubs, seekings of warmth, and her little temper tantrums.
Six years that went by in five minutes. Mini is no more now, she no longer suffers, but I cannot see her anymore in her little sweaters, jumping on the couch to lay on my chest.
She is missed.
I miss her.