Sometimes I think the Fae created the garden just so the divine and sublime Miss Babe would have a beautiful place to spend her senior years, lounging among the flowers and keeping a close eye on the many butterflies and
A few months shy of her eighteenth birthday, Babe died while sleeping in the garden. It was a beautiful sunshiny day. She is buried beneath her favorite patch of catmint.
When Babe was five, she lost her right-rear leg to cancer. Until her later years, her quality of life was equal to that of any four-legged feline.
By the time the garden was planted, however, she was fourteen and arthritis and other age-related problems had made it difficult for her to get around.
