...and a family member, it's the absence that gets you. You expect to see them come around a corner or mew in your direction.
Jez, our grey gal, lived 18 years. 16 of them were a soft life with my girl Laura. For 13 of them, she gladly accepted another momma into her routine. And I was happy her majesty allowed me.
I taught her that the brush was her friend, that treats were plentiful and that there was always time for a good, ol fashioned ear rub. I was a good servant.
She was our diva, who never had time for the other pets, but allowed them to live in her kingdom. No cat's coat was softer. She would give a mink a run for its money. Her eyes so blue it made the sky jealous.
In her last months, she grew bold and brassy. With trips out to the yard and into the afternoon sun. Who says you can't teach an old girl new tricks? She learned to use the kitty door, when she much preferred her minions open the door for her.
She stuck closer in those later days. Clung to our thighs when we sat, circled our feet when we walked, found her way back to the 'family bed', dog be damned! She went from fat cat to catwalk thin, but her appetite was huge! Don't let your finger linger when passing a treat of chicken her way. SNAP!
And when it was time...it was time. Her two mommas, who loved her so, by her side. She fell asleep, with dreams of Whisker Lickens and rubs under her chin, in that one spot, right where she loved it most.
Her eye lids drooped and she sighed the smallest of sighs. Almost to say, "If I close my eyes....I can see a plate of tuna waiting on the other side."
Long live the queen!
I couldn't say it any better, hon, but gosh darn it, you made me leaky!
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