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I thought of you off and on all day today, wondering if you knew that today you were finally going somewhere where your body would get the nourishment from the food you ate. A week ago last Thursday, when the phone rang, I thought mom was going to tell me about you, not about Grandad. When I left the weekend before I thought I wouldn’t see you again and instead I was given another chance to say goodbye and it was Grandad I wouldn’t see again.

Little kitty, one of two kittens that mom and dad found in the old garage of Granny and Jack’s house, the year both of them passed away (Granny was Grandad’s mom, Jack his step-father), 1999; you were the feisty one, the one that whacked, bit, and squirmed when held. A little too much loving would result in a nip at my nose on the eve of Curtis’ wedding.

I was in college when mom and dad brought you home with your sister Yoda, and though for a long time I never thought of you as my cat, it was during the last two years when I was actually at home and visiting that I got to know you a bit more. You mellowed, came around and wanted to be loved on. Leo loved laying with you in the corner under the lamp table in the living room. I would have thought Samson would have been your buddy, but no, the two feisty cats chose each other as temporary friends and cuddle pals. I think you missed them after I took Samson and Leo back to live with me and Chris; having lost your sister two years ago, you were a bit lonely. I felt sad for you, kitty, and wished I could have adopted you just so you had some kitty pals.

I’m glad to have petted you one last time, been able to kiss your furry head the way I do my own cats without threat of being nipped at, and said goodbye.

I hope you are frolicking in animal heaven with your sister Yo-Yo, and Sandy the dog. Say hi to Trixie the guinea pig for me, too.