End of an Era: Ptolemy cheated the hangman by storming the gates of Valhalla this morning, three hours before the Last Appointment we'd booked for him. Herself gave him a quick dose of his controlled substance as he was going, as he was clearly unhappy; this might explain why the backup vet* said he looked as if he'd had a peaceful end. I just hope the Viking equivalent of St Peter doesn't have the controlled-substances equivalent of a breathaliser, but methinks they're used to receiving new guests who are somewhat out to lunch.

No flowers, please, just mice.

* His usual vet was in the middle of a seriously long procedure. Ptol always had, of course, a cat's innate talent for non-human-friendly timing (cf small gifts at three in the morning).