This is the toughest blog I will likely ever write.  We have no children, but we have cats.  Well, now we have one.  I can't type out the full story, but I'll cut and paste a copy of the email that I sent to everyone about what happened.  I can't dwell, I can't answer questions.  I need to take my moments to cry and keep moving.  For better or for worse, that is what I do, and that is what I need right now.

I knew I couldn't recount the details more than once, so I sent a blanket email to everyone I could find an email address for at the time.  Fortunately, I have great friends and fabulous family.  Lot of real and virtual hugs and not many questions.  The pain will fade, but there will always be a raw spot for my Coco Puffy.  There was only ever one Puffy and he was the most fabulous cat EVER.  (Sorry Dodger, you're cute, but Puffy was my baby.)

Here's the email, and then I am done:

This afternoon, Coco was outside on his harness.  I had let him out and closed the glass door instead of the screen door because the air conditioning was on.  He must have fallen off the ramp and somehow wiggled out of the lower part of his harness that fastens under the front legs, leaving only the collar part around his neck.  While this is a horrible thought, he did in fact hang while we were indoors.  Tim found him, yelled to me and I ran out and around.  It was much too late.  It was probably about 30 minutes or so before we found him.  Terrible, awful, and true.  We took his remains to the clinic for cremation - no pawprint, no reminders.  The void is enough.

We will forever kick ourselves.  Would have, should have, could have.  If only I hadn't closed the glass door, if only I had made him come in earlier.  If only we had tightened the harness so he couldn't wiggle out of it.  If we'd built stairs, done something, anything different, Coco Puffy would still be with us.  There's a big, quiet hole in this house. 

Already cried a lot and will probably cry some more, but I can't bear to see all the sad posts on Facebook or sad eyes when I get to the clinic or Run Club.  Inspection is coming and I've got distance to do.  Granted he was only a cat, but he was my Puffy.  

Megan 

(and Tim)