Saturday, February 12, 2011

remembering Tigerlily

It's been over a month, and I can't avoid this place or this subject any longer.

This adorable orange cat is no longer with us. She went to sleep for the last time on January 7th after struggling with cancer.

We will always remember her love for all things paper.

Her curiosity.

Her ability to quickly change an already awkward napping situation...

...into an increasingly precarious, and still awkward, napping situation.

No matter what we were doing, she wanted to be close by. At only 7 lbs she was a tiny cat, and she took advantage of her small size to squeeze into small places.

She loved to ride around on our shoulders like a parrot, or a monkey.

And she never missed an opportunity to sit inside of something. Whether that was an empty plant pot...

...or the empty clothes dryer.

I miss that silly little cat more than I can explain. Her absence is felt every day. I am thankful for all the pictures we have of her, and the memories that they evoke.

I will miss napping with her. Finding her cuddling with me under the covers. Discovering that a stack of newly-washed cloth placemats have been taken over by my furry friend. Finding her hidden in freshly-washed sheets that wait for folding. Seeing her face as she greets me at the door. Hearing the ridiculous "meh" noises that she made (no nice kitty meows from her). Watching her dunk a toy in water and then bring it to me to throw. The way she learned to resist the temptation to play with my knitting needles, because she'd rather nap on my lap.

I could not watch you suffer,
I could not see you in pain.
Because I loved you,
I had to let you go.
Now you are free.
Your body is no longer sick,
weak, and hurting.
You have crossed over,
into the spirit realm.
May you walk with Bast,
and I will see you again some day.

You will live forever in my heart.

1 comment:

  1. I remember how she always gave me angry looks--even when I was offering a plate full of cat food spiked with chicken bits. And how she crawled into the dry food locker and I had to drag her out. Or how she curled up on my lap and seemed so happy with the extra body heat.
    You gave her the best life you could and spared her whatever pain you could. That's as much as anyone can provide.