I was really hoping that the next time I was going to update my journal, it would be with something happy.

On Saturday the 18th of July someone ran over my grandmother's kitten in front of our house.

Pixie was maybe only eight months old and haad been living with us for a month while Nana was ill in hospital, and after Pixie finally got used to being outside, she died.

The thing is, she died in the only place in the entire village where most people drive really slowly because there's a bend in the road and it's on a hill. And yet someone hit her and didn't even bother to try and find out who she belonged to.

I was making b rownies at the time, and when I answered the door to find a good family friend standing there I was happy. But then she just looked at me with tears in her eyes and said "Please don't make me tell you Scarlett. I don't want to tell you. Please get your Dad."
At which point I notice the the old duvet she's holding and realised that I hadn't seen Pixie in a while.

And the only thing I could think of while I was holding our beautiful kitten, cleaning the blood off of her was "Why isn't she purring? I'm stroking her and holding her how she loves it and she's not purring. Why isn't she purring?"

I really loved that cat, as did everyone in the family so it is really really hard to understand her being dead.


This really hasn't been a good year haas it? First Rua my rabbbit, then Melanie my Godmother and now Pixie.

Goddess forgive and forever rest in peace, all of you.