There was no violence. There was no noise. She leaped from our bed, which urged me to get up as well. I walked out into the hall. Shadow stood at the top of the stairs, looking around as if not knowing what to do. I walked past her into the bathroom. She followed me in after a moment. She lay down on the soft carpet, in her usual way.
Almost immediately, she stretched out her front legs. That was not usual. It seemed to be happening against her will. Something about it did not appear to be a move she chose to make.
She rolled onto her side, uttered an embarrassed apology, and stopped breathing. I felt for a pulse. I felt none. I rested my hand on her beautiful, deep chest of smooth, glossy fur and felt no sign of breathing. She was warm, and I regretted that she would soon grow cold
She’s in the ground now, in the corner of our garden. We had a guy with a backhoe come with his big machine and dig down through the frozen ground. We buried her in her long-time green blanket. We will need some time to get over the loss. I’m grateful that she passed before I did. I was worried about what might happen to her if I died first.