After close to 19 years, my wife and I let our little, still baby kitten to me go. It would be easy to post a photo on Facebook or one of the short videos of Tinkerbell doing something weird. It would garner some sad emojis, I guess. But I am not that kind oh share-er.
For these years, we have fed her breakfast and dinner and multiple snacks in between. We have watched her make OCD circles around the carpet before picking just the right spot to sit. A spot just out of arm’s reach and with her butt facing us. She had many other names like ZaZa, Bella, MonkeyB not because of any personality trait. The names just came naturally.
I drank and reviewed many a beer with her on my lap. Not in summer though. Summer she eschewed laps and instead shed fur on to one of her many blankets. Tink was not a cat to pet or to hold or snuggle which is probably why we loved her all the more. We being homebody introverts who prefer the quiet.
She came into my life on a day that I was home sick from work and became “my cat” though I would point out the technicality that my wife had wanted a cat, found a cat and brought the cat home.
I expect that cat videos won’t be fun to watch for awhile. Eliciting more sadness than smiles. That will pass. Coming home from work and not having her greet me at the door will sting but that pain too will subside. And though she had no taste for beer she did like her bucket (yes, a full bucket) of water. I would drink and she would drink and we would sit. That I will miss the most.
R.I.P. little girl.
