Our cat, Frankie, died sometime yesterday. In the early evening, a friend of elder son’s alerted us to a cat lying there. He checked, and indeed it was her. I was fetched, and took a look at the prone body, with flesh gouged out of her side. Rigor mortis had set in, as I found out when I tried to stroke her cheek one last time. I turned her over and she looked as she always does when she’s asleep–paws stretched out in front of her face. It seemed to me that she had passed away, was found by one of the coyotes seen on our street last night, who took a bite and decided her diseased body was not worth the effort, and left her there. There was no sign of a broken neck or struggle, and that explanation is easier on my mind and heart, for as the medieval Islamic texts say, And no one knows the truth of the matter save God. Sent from my iPad

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