Two months ago tonight, my dear Kandy, I had to let you go. For almost 14 years you were my baby – I loved you so much – you were so beautiful and fluffy with your orange stripes and your white paws and belly. I took you off the streets and into our home and into our hearts and there you remained until that night the doctor told me “It’s time.” You knew months before your death that you were leaving, didn’t you, big boy? When I think of how you wanted to be with one of us constantly and were seeking our love and
affection every minute.
You were saying goodbye. I had 18 days to prepare for your death and I still didn’t want to give you up – but I couldn’t see you suffer anymore. You were so beautiful, so intelligent, so gentle for such a large cat, and so funny and entertaining. You wanted to be noticed – you thought you were so important – and you were – you thought everyone loved you – and those who knew you did. I was devastated over your death – in the first few nights after, I hoped that I might die too, if it meant that I could be with you. That was silly.
I feel you here with me every day – the night you died, I heard you purring in my room in the middle of the night. I’ve found fluffs of your fur attached to bushes in the yard or in a little corner of the house or garage. I always feel that you’re saying hello when I find them. No matter how much time passes, or if I ever get another cat, I will never forget you, dear Kandy. Forgive me for not staying with you when the doctor put you to sleep – I couldn’t bear to watch you take your last breath.
I held you in my arms for hours after and cried and kissed you and talked to you before I could bear to place you in the ground under the maple tree where you loved to lay in the shade. My silent tears fall even now as I write this tribute. I love you, Kandy. You were a true friend who left big pawprints on my heart. I’ve removed you from the grave and placed you in my heart where you belong. You will live forever in my heart and memory.