I still miss my cat. Freddy. Got her when she was a kitten. She was probably 11 when she started getting really sick, and then I moved the year after that to a place that didn't allow pets. Took her to an acreage, the Hervey Foundation for Cats, but I don't think she lived for much longer. And I get days when she pops into my head, in her carrying case and crying because she doesn't know where she's been taken.

I'm probably not helping, just making myself sad, too. The point I set out to make is that losing a pet you loved can sometimes be just as difficult as losing a person you love. It hurts. Sometimes terribly so. After a while it hurts less and less, and then you're left with the memories. The bad ones, yes, like the one in my other paragraph. And the good ones, like when she jumped seven feet in the air because she was playing with one of those door-stopper springs and didn't expect it to... well... spring. And I know you have the same for Lolo.

*hugs*