I’ll never forget the first time we saw you. We stopped to check out the prettiest little house — an old, completely restored farm house with sumptuous landscaping on wooded acreage. And there you were, waiting for us, perched on the curved walkway among the azaleas and dogwoods, in the shade of the Japanese cherry tree.
You opened your little mouth and let out a whisper that could barely be heard. You were mute, as it turned out. When we reached down to pet you, you purred and weaved your frail old body between our legs, brushing us with your sweet little head. We knew right away that you had chosen us. And until your last day, you were loyal and humble and sweet. That day was today.
We were glad to have met our neighbor behind us, because he told us all about you. You hung out at his place a long long time ago, before you sent kittens out into the world. We were surprised, no, amazed to learn how old you were. And we’re happy that you could make it until you were seventeen. But your tired old body finally gave out. You couldn’t get around anymore. The last few days, you couldn’t retract your claws, and you stumbled as you walked. I kept waiting for you to pull away, like our other cats had done, but you never did. You always wanted to be with us wherever we were.
The lady who owned the house before us had given you the old barn to live in. That was okay, but when the first cold night hit us, I went out to the barn to get you, and brought you into the basement where you could at least have some heat. It wasn’t too long before we finished it out into a library and sewing room, and you made it your home. You went outside on nice days, and stayed inside in the cold and rain and heat.
You sat by my feet for hours as I read, content only to be near me. You were never spoiled. Never demanded a thing. And you appreciated everything you were ever given. You were the joy of my life, following at my heel wherever I strolled in the yard, and stopping to rest only when I did. You were a very smart cat. When we built our koi pond, you knew that those fish were ours, and you never made so much as a move toward them. But you would sit patiently, sometimes napping, while we fed them.
Time caught up with you. When you could no longer run up and down the stairs, we put a little stove close to your bed where you could keep warm and dry. When you could no longer eat those hard nibbles, we fed you the canned food. And this morning, when your breathing became labored and you could barely walk, I knew it was time. I cried like a baby as I prepared you for your first and final trip in the car. I was gentle with you the way you always were with me.
I just finished digging your grave. You’ll be beside your step-brother, Jane, and your step-sister, Jezzy. I miss them, but not like I miss you. You’re so special, so unspoiled and precious. You were like an old hound dog to me. Your atoms have begun to decay, but your essence will always be with me. I love you with all my heart. And I’ll tell you one last time, “You’re the prettiest black girl in the whole world.”
I love you, sweetie. Rest now.
