Although I’ve never been much of an animal person, the little black cat that moved into our closet to raise her kittens truly stole my heart. Through the year, she won us over, trusting us to take care of her and her kittens, napping on our laps, licking our faces, constantly begging for a treat. She followed us around the garden, flopped over on our feet in an attempt to get us to rub her head, and brought home the results of her impressive hunting skills. Mostly, she caused us to fall head over heels for her. She was a really bright spot in our little corner of the suburbs.
In October, we hadn’t seen her for a few days, an abnormal amount of time for her to be gone. We knew something must be wrong, and spent hours over the weekend looking for her. Finally, Ben suggested that we sit still near one of her favorite haunts, and call for her. Slowly by slowly, she defied the instinct to hide and limped out of her hiding place to meet the sound of my voice. Thrilled, we scooped her up and carried her home and then, in the safety of our kitchen, realized the prognosis was not good. It appeared she may have been hit by a car.
During the next few weeks, we drove her to the vet literally twice a day to get the vital treatment she needed. Our vet clinic was incredibly kind and compassionate with her and with us, but ultimately her injuries were too much for her to recover from. Losing our beautiful kitty was far more heart wrenching than I ever would have expected, but I won’t ever forget the way she taught me to love something so small. We miss you kitty girl.