This is the story (well, it is the last page of a 6 page story) in which Pushkin came to visit me briefly as a ‘ghost’ (or something!) the day after he died. I am not one of those persons who really believes in ghosts, but it sure felt distinctly as if something rubbed against my leg, and there was nobody near me--and Pushkin was a full-body serious leg-rubbing kitty. I don’t know if we do meet our kitties across the ‘rainbow bridge’ after we have all passed away, but I am sure cats are a part of something larger that we are all a part of... and as ever, have their own agendas! Pushkin was an independent kitty who just hated being housebound in his last years, so I still miss him but am happy that he may be off somewhere else now!
