I started calling her “Bird” or “Katie Bird” not only because her colouring and delicate appearance put me in mind of a little brown wren, but also because her Maine Coon chirps and trills resemble nothing so much as the conversations of finches and larks. It would be difficult to find a more winsome, vocal, or playful cat than my Kate was. She used to love to hide in the grocery bags after we emptied them, and more than once she got trapped in a cupboard while we were putting things away.
She loved the sun— not that we saw much of it in Seattle— and would perch and pose for hours at a time, luxuriating in the feel of her own warm fur. She always smelled soooo good after a sunbath!
She knew her own mind, did Kate, and didn’t begrudge sharing her thoughts with you.
She called upstairs for us in the morning, complaining about the slowness of the breakfast service, and hurried to curl up on top of me whenever I lay down on the living room couch to read or nap. She preferred to spend her nights downstairs with her old friend Maribeth— because the boys, Maxx and Reilly, share our big bed.
She suffered a long period of mourning for her chum, during which she kept to herself and slept alone on the couch they once shared. When it ended, she decided to assert herself and reclaim our attention— staking out a space for herself on the bed (boys or not!) and for a while she slept with me again. She never lacked for much, our Kate— she was the exasperating, endearing, marvelously
alive spark that lit our every day.
Our beautiful little Bird, who had the heart of a lioness and was a fighter to the end, lost a brief but fierce battle with cancer on October 21, 2002. I cannot imagine how long my grief will take her place as my constant companion.
I will miss her always.