Lisa and I started dating in October of 1995. In March of 1996 we moved in together. In April of 1996 we made our first major decision as a newly-formed household: we adopted a cat.


She was aloof, and finicky, and
particular, as cats tend to be. But she
had an amazing ability to tell when one of us was upset, or sad, or angry, or
frustrated. In those times, her
aloof-ness would vanish, and she would come and say hello, or just cuddle up
with me and go to sleep. I don’t know
how she knew, but she always did. Her
affection got me through many hard times.

A couple days ago, it became obvious
that things were getting difficult for her.
We called the vet and made an appointment. The vet came to our house tonight. I held Tuesday on my lap while the vet made
the injection. She purred, as if to tell
us it was alright. It seemed that, as she
always did, she was trying to make us feel good. The vet then stepped out, and we had ten last
minutes with her. We got to say goodbye
to her. We got to tell her how much we love her, and how much she has brought
to our lives. We got to thank her for
being part of our lives. And then, while
I was holding her on my lap, she passed.
She has been around essentially my
entire adult life. She has given me so
much affection, so much care, so much joy.
I was looking forward to August playing with, and her patiently putting
up with it, as she did most things. It
is hard for me to imagine my life without her.
She was a companion, and a friend.
I will miss her more than I can
possibly say.