Goodbye to a Friend

Simply put, Kitty was the boss. She was the queen, the matriarch, a sultry lady of relentless attitude and love wrapped up in one undeniably female, furry body. My wife and I would often joke that this was Kitty's apartment, and it was only by her good graces that we were allowed to stay. She was bossy, hard-headed, demanding, and territorial. By equal measures, she was also sensitive, affectionate, loving, and intimate. She would lie next to me in bed, look deeply into my eyes and gently touch my face with her paws. Most nights, she would curl up on my wife's pillow, cradle her head between her paws, and rest her chin on my wife's forehead. These were moments of intense closeness, strange for their intimacy, yet impossible to pull away from. 

Over the last couple of years, Kitty's health declined. She had a hyperactive thyroid condition, and she became senile. Yesterday, we said goodbye.

Unfortunately, Mylo won't remember Kitty. At seven months, he's too young. But I'll be sure to show him pictures and tell him stories when he gets older. And I can tell a million stories: how she was rescued by my wife. How she stood up to all the crazy, foster dogs that passed through our apartment. How loving she was to my wife and I. How crazy she was to any guests we dared to invite over without her permission.

But all that really matters right now is that a part of our family is gone. And we miss her.