The Nine Lives of a Cat

I haven't been counting, and somehow I reprove myself for that fact. How many lives might Annabelle have left, or, has she now reached her last? As she sleeps in her favorite cozy warm spot by the window (in the painting below), I find myself thinking of summers with Annabelle, how on hot days she'd plow through the tangle of pink cosmos and curl up in the shady understory like a fat catepiller and doze away the afternoon while I tended to my garden nearby. I'm thinking of our walks down the hill to the mailbox every morning, just my little friend and me. Halfway down the long driveway there was a particular tree she'd dash to every day and climb, as though trying to impress me with her agility and skill - or maybe she was just exercising, because a girl needs to stay fit. She'd slowly back down the tree while I waited for her below. Sigh. I am praying there is another life for Annabelle. Please God, just one more life :.((