Dear Diary . . . day by day

Tuesday, June 20th - Summer Solstice
I received this email from Kellie yesterday:
Well, everyone knows Chloe has been sick since January. Her kidneys are failing and in the last few weeks she's gotten very lethargic and sick. Brian and I don't want her to suffer any longer so tonight, Monday, June 19th, Chloe will be put to sleep.
I'm sure if Chloe could talk (and knowing her, she probably can and just chooses not to...) she would want to say good-bye and thanks to everyone for being such good friends...
Kellie (and Chloe)
I want to write a memorial for Chloe, but I'm afraid Kellie will read this page too soon, and I know she would cry. There have been too many grey cats down this month - both of them are from very specific times in my life: Gray is the last cat from my childhood, and Chloe was Gryffyn's pal when we all lived on Martin Place the last few years of college. We called her - affectionately - bitchy kitty, as she was very dainty and finicky and would roll her eyes and flick a disdainful whisker at Gryffyn's clownish antics. Her first year was spent in a dorm room, which is why (in my opinion) she ended up being such a small adult cat (no bigger than a large kitten, really) - it's like keeping a fish in a small bowl instead of a tank - they just never get that big in small surroundings. Chloe was a lot of fun, and she loved to lick plastic, which drove Kellie nuts. I remember one time we had her in my dorm room while we were drinking or something, and Kellie, in her slight intoxication, was obsessed with Chloe's desire to share the cheese we were eating. "Don't let Chloe eat the cheeese!" was a battle cry for many years. When she wanted to be affectionate she was adorable - and you felt especially honored if you could make Chloe purr.
Ach - I said I wasn't going to do a memorial . . .
The garden is booming. I think the peppers LOVE this heat - we've got 2 Thai red peppers started (though they're still green) and, AND a yellow bell (with more on the way!)!. The jalapeno is lagging, as it hasn't any flowers as of yet, but I remember it being a late bloomer last year as well, so no worries yet. The tomatoes are incredible this year - probably because I'm pinching them back and not letting them get all leggy. It's odd - our smallest plant (the Mountain Gold) has the most green tomatoes, the largest of which is starting to get some color! Our largest - the German Stripe, which reaches past my waist - has only flowers, no fruit. The other two (Green Zebra and Early Girl) have green fruit, though the Early Girl has the larger fruit of the two.
My sweetpeas are nearing the end and when I pull them down we're going to lose an excellent privacy shield along that fence. Ah well. The morning glories which reseeded from last year are flourishing, and I hope to encourage them to grow in the sweetpeas place. My container gardens on the steps are full, flowering and lush, although both my fuchia plants have some weird brown spotty disease that is breaking my heart - I LOVE fuchia! The honeysuckle is like aromatherapy when you walk through the gate. The perinneal herb garden is getting huge - with the lemon grass, rosemary and tarragon making the most noticeable improvements.
Exercise log:
I can think of nothing, which is sad. I should've lifted weights last night.
Writing log:
Wrote about 800 words of a short story for writing class and I think I hate it. Our assignment is to write two beginnings for our story (from different POV or whatever) at about 150-250 words. I think I'll have to begin again at any rate, whether it's this story or not.
I'm currently reading:
The Fall of Atlantis by Marion Zimmer Bradley

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