So much for my fantastic day yesterday. It lasted maybe 9 hours.

I won’t go into all the details about last night’s dinner at the Granville Inn — but the good old days there are definitely over. New management, new everything, and the food was terrible. I could barely eat it.

Then, sadly, when I got home and headed upstairs, Weenie, one of my longtime feral cats (he turned 12 on St. Patrick’s Day) was lying there dead at the top of the stairs. His mom, Huckleberry, was sitting next to him, sort of guarding him.

It was so heartbreaking and unexpected. He was still warm when I picked him up in my arms, so he hadn’t been dead long. I’m guessing it was a heart attack.

Thankfully, it had finally stopped raining. I was able to bury him out by the new rose bushes.

What a night.