Last night, Victoria had a stuffy nose and was alarmingly lethargic. We gave her her nose drops and figured she'd probably feel better in the morning, and that we would take her to the vet in the morning if she didn't.
She died in the night.
She was purring in Adam's arms on Saturday, and she died last night. We don't know how. We don't know why. She was seven.
I do not really have it in me to write a lot of stuff about Torbutt right now. Probably tomorrow. But no matter what fake-mean stuff I said about her (we had a schtick), I loved her and she knew it, and she was a good kitty.