Her name was Sabre, and her name was the only fierce thing about her. She was the queen of cats, the boss of the house, lover of every stranger. She demanded petting by the reach of a paw. She owned the rights to the water dish, and every cereal bowl.
She came to me twelve years ago when she was 2 1/2. Her previous owner had trained her to never get on the furniture, so, obviously, she jumped on my couch before her previous owner drove out of sight. She made her first and only foray to the top of the refrigerator that same first night. After that, she had the run of the house.
She was vocal, sounded bitchy, but was a gentle Kittygirl. In fact, that was the name she came running to, not Sabre.
She reluctantly gave up her place on the other side of my bed when I married Bob. She was adoptive mother and strict disciplinarian to our other two cats as they came along: Maxie, and especially bad boy Peggy (three legs gave him his name).
She made me laugh, so many times. She loved to hide and hit the other cats as they came along with a rapid-fire whacking from her claw-less yet deadly paw. She would sit-stand on my lap and give me kitty hugs whenever I asked for one. She would beg for a new fur mouse toy, and promptly hide it, so she could ask for another.
Today she left the house for the first and last time. Her health was not good, and over the past months, she became a shade of her original personality. Her greatest joy lately was resting on the couch, where a hand resting lightly on her would cause continuous soft purring to start.
I believe strongly in a responsibility to make our pets' lives happy always. I knew that our big move coming up shortly would likely be more stress than her frail body could handle. I didn't want her last memory to be the stress of 12 hours in the car, being taken from the only home she had known for so many happy years. So we made the decision that her life would end today. I don't feel good about it, even though I know it was the right time.
Mother of cats,
Friend of all strangers,
Lover of cereal bowls,
Constantly purring
Queen of the house.
I will miss you.
My Kittygirl.
So much.
I love you!
Your adoptive mom.
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