Bridget Gault 32 y/o

Age: 32
Relgion: Jehovah's witness
Status: Single
Favorite Movie: Dancer In The Dark

After he'd read the article he convinced her to put down Miss Harrington.
In retrospect, she now knew that for something to change, something old has to go.
All the way to the veterinarian she cried, he said this was for the best.

This was years ago, she and her then-boyfriend Danny living in an apartment shared with a girl named Sarah.

She knew she heard their arguments through the walls, but she'd never once complained.

She said, she'd been there.
With some John guy.

The article was about this cat, living in a nursing home. Going from bed to bed with potential bodies, the cat would patrol.
The story was that a couple of hours before someone died the cat would jump up on the bed, laying there until it was over. The dying wanting to stroke him but couldn't, knowing with relief what was around the corner.
The cat would purr until the last breath and when the body was gone, he'd start patroling again.

The problem was that Miss Harrington had slept in their bed every night.

But that was before the article and after reading it Danny just couldn't sleep anymore.
He would pace the apartment waiting for the chessplayer.

So after the screaming and the crying, they gave the little miss a shot
and it was over.

The apartment grew quiet and closed off.

A week later, Bridget moved out. She packed her bags on a tuesday while Danny was at work. Sarah helped her, tip-toeing around collecting and packing cd's she'd borrowed.
Untangling months of spiderwebs of knowing the old Bridget.

Sarah had been their cat of death, the scape-goat observer of the end.

No one cried over a car leaving to never return.
Then, not knowing the kid growing inside of her.

Miss Harrington had been the last sacrifice for a dying god.
Danny had been the last burning icon.

She'd be born again in some small town.

In a flowered dress, she'd knock door after door, trying to teach what Miss Harrington had given her.