This weekend our sweet little Olive got killed by a coyote.
Since moving here she's been able to go outside and it's her favorite place to be. Even though I can't stop crying, I don't think I'd do anything different if I had it to do over. She was an entirely different cat outside - rolling around, wanting belly scratches, affectionate - inside she just stalked around growling at the other cats and not wanting to be touched.
She was Borris's mother - though I'm not sure he realized that. They were just great pals - playing together like kids and following us around together. I feel awful for him too. The whole thing is just awful.