Her little cat, Phoenix, became ill. Despite trips to the vet, he got worse and worse. His eating slowed, he became thinner and thinner. In the last days, his legs stopped working well. He'd sway when he got up, and she would run to catch him. On his last night, he slept in the bed with her, and Stuart, and Jeremiah. They all slept together, a heap of animals trying to comfort one another.

The next morning, Phoenix's breath became labored. As Stuart held him in his arms, he began his death rattle. His little back leg started to swat at Stuart, so that he could be put down and left alone in his final moments. It was physical, this dying, and difficult. They sat near him, until it was over.  They took him back to the vet for a last visit and, after saying goodbye, left him there to be cremated.

She found herself walking into a courtyard. There was a little fire, and as she approached the smoke became blacker and heavier. She saw Phoenix with his head in the smoke. "Little kitty!" she said, "Stop! You'll get smoke inhalation!"

As soon as she said it, he raised his head to look her in the eye.  And then he took a step. With the step, he swayed, and seeing the sway she remembered that he had died.

The smoke was so heavy, it was choking her. She and her family were in danger! Her eyes opened, and she was in bed. One breathe, then another, then another. The sense of smoke dissipated, it had been part of the dream.

She cried.