It was within a few days of Christmas, 1987, when we brought you home. I was nine years old. You were the most adorable kitten, looking like some hairball that blew out from under the fridge.
You loved to go outside to eat grass and catch insects, but mostly to lie in the sun. You also loved to play with hair-ties, fetching them for me and hiding them throughout the house. Your “laydar” never failed, even when you were asleep in the other room – you always knew when I was sitting or lying down and would come to be on my lap. Within seconds you were there, ready for love. Even if I was reading a book, you would climb over it and MAKE room on my lap. I could not resist and set the book down, needing your love too. When you laid on me you often would stretch your arm out with a soft satisfying groan, and could sleep on me for hours. And sometimes I slept too. Mostly I just pet you. Nothing could make me happier.
You comforted me and helped me through hard times. No friend could ever be more true and comforting.
I thank you for that.
To end the pain you endured in those last few months, I put you to sleep on December 9th, 2004, at the age of 17. I was 26. It was the hardest day of my life.