Spiumino era il gatto più buono che avevamo, timido ma premuroso e affezionato, vigilava sempre i gattini piccoli, ci metteva una vita e mezza a mangiare e aveva due occhi dolci che ti faceva ogni volta tenerezza a guardarli.
La tristezza arriva quando cominci a realizzare che non lo vedrai più, che non lo troverai più acciambellato sotto la sua pianta preferita ogni volta che vai a casa del fidanzato e non ti verrà più incontro incerto chiedendoti un boccone prelibato.
A distanza di un paio di giorni ho ancora un miscuglio di emozioni e scusate se mi assento di nuovo, devo andare a fare un altro piantarello.
How sad, painful and angry to be awakened in the morning by a phone call telling you that one of your cats was killed by a motorist mad. You dress in a hurry still dazed and disbelieving, reach the poor cat and when you see him on the ground lifeless, when you realize that it is one of your cats, you burst of pain. The anger comes later, thinking about the injustice suffered, the fact that a madman has chosen to run like crazy to earn paltry ten seconds over and killed your cat.
Spiumino was the goodest cat we had, shy but so caring and affectionate, always ensuring the young kittens, and he had two so sweet eyes that made you melt with tenderness.
The sadness comes when you begin to realize that you won't see him anymore, you will not find him curled under his favorite tree anymore and you will not be meeting by him uncertain asking a delicacy anymore.
At a distance of a couple of days I have a mixture of these emotions and sorry if I will be absent again, I'm going to cry again.
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