Today we had to put down the last of our old cats.

When Teri and I met, we each had two cats. Just before our marriage, her oldest, (and best) cat died. Since then we’ve been slowly decreasing our cat population. Today marks the end of our last one.

The details were a bit gruesome, and I really do not want to share them. Suffice to say it was an emotionally difficult day. Little Girl was my cat, and I loved her dearly, but she was not a fun cat to be around near the end of her life. She was given to me by a friend named Dona, as a companion for another cat I owed named Dusty. As a companion to Dusty she failed, but as my cat she excelled.

19 years is a good run for a cat. I’ll miss her, but at the same time I’m glad she’s gone.  Trevor is already asking if we can get some more kittens. I’m not quite ready yet, but we’ll see. One thing is for sure, I can finally get a good night’s sleep without her howling.

We buried her in the front yard with a good view of the bird feeders. Teri bought her a window perch earlier this year, and she loved to sit up there and watch the birds. Now she can all the time.

Little Girl is the protagonist of a novel I’ve been working on, so it’s kind of strange to loose the inspiration for your main character.  Funny as it sounds, not having her around will probably help me remember the younger Little Girl, whom was more playful, and fun to be around. In death, she looked more relaxed and happy than she had in years. Pain and age take their toll, so it was nice to get a glimpse of the younger kitty inside the old bag of bones.