One Life Down, Eight Remaining...Almost

I thought I killed Ada last night. It was a wretched moment when I held her limp little body in my hands. In an instant, I saw ghosts of dead hamsters flash before my eyes before my mind flashed to the penguin from March of the Penguins, pecking on the body of her passed away chick. It was a moment of disbelief and horror.

You see, I woke up in the middle of the night, sat up in bed, and thought to myself that Ada must still be running around the house. Otherwise, she would awake instantly, sensing my movement, and pounce on my lap. Laying back down, I felt something furry half under my leg. It was Ada. Except she wasn't moving. I moved away from her and gave her a little pat. Nothing. I picked her up, and her little body lay slack in my hands. In flooded the instant of anguish when I thought certainly I had squashed my little kitten in my sleep, suffocating her, crushing her.

And then I began to hear a glimmer of a purr. Then louder and louder the purr hummed, until the kitten, risen from the dead, stood up and stretched. What relief! I didn't kill her afterall! She stood on my chest and blinked at me, bewildered as to why I would wake her from her deepest of sleeps.

(I have to admit that later on I almost regretted the misfired killing when she knocked my makeup bag into the sink while I was brushing my teeth and I watched for a few helpless moments as the bag and its contents filled with water. Such is life.)