To sleep, perchance to dream . . .

Our cat Ankgie, one of three, died early Sunday morning.

He'd been ill with some kind of infection for a couple of weeks, and we'd visited the vet several times. A few shots, and he'd be better for another day, but then relapse. Saturday night, I could see that he wouldn't outlive these increasingly close brushes with death. Sure enough, at two in the morning, my younger son En-Uk - who was staying up and keeping watch - woke us to say that Angkie was breathing shallow breaths in a 'strange' way. I got up and saw Angkie gasp his last breath. We had him cremated, and we will scatter his ashes somewhere in this part of Korea.

We have two cats remaining . . .