2012 - 2023
Sweet girl. I’ll never be able to put into words how much you mean to me, to all of us. You taught me how to be a cat mom and made me the cat person I am today.
November 5, 2012, you chose us. I sat down on the floor at the Oregon Coast Humane Society and you walked into my lap like it had always been yours. You flipped over on your back and that was it. My 28th birthday present. Tiger was terrified of you at first, but you won him over. You became the matriarch of our clowder. The Queen. As more cats joined our family, you were always number one. One look from you would send them running.
Scott reminded me yesterday how we were lucky to have you as long as we did. As a kitten you had a heart murmur. The vet didn’t expect you to have a long life unless you had open heart surgery or it happened to resolve on its own. During that time you were narcoleptic. You’d randomly fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, feet up, middle of the room, face down in a box, under the twins’ dresser. It made us love you all the more. We got lucky and it resolved on its own. You remained healthy until suddenly you weren’t.
The last 6 months have been so hard. You went from our big fluffy girl to skin and bones. Multiple vet appointments and they couldn’t figure it out. You didn’t want to eat anymore and when you did, it came back up. And through it all, you continued to love us. You also let me love you more. There were more naps in my lap or arms, complete with purrs and drool. You always drooled when you were happy.
While you chose me to bring you home, it was Leia who captured your heart. She was your girl. You loved her more than anything, and that love was mutual. So many mornings you’d be snuggled up tight to her in bed, nearly suffocating her or occupying most of her pillow. Leia could always pick you up and carry you around, even when you didn’t want anyone else to touch you. Your bond was and will always be special.
There is so much I am going to miss. Seeing you curled up on my bed with Lucy, your sweet little questioning chirps when you wanted greenies or food, how you’d chase the red dot, how the highlight of your day was pushing things off counters (you broke quite a few glasses in the last month) and pushing the water bowl around the kitchen. I’ll miss the sound you made watching birds, your belly up position in the sun, how you’d roll around in the empty grocery bags while I put everything away, your ability to open the back door and let out every single cat.
You have been such an integral part of our lives for the last 10 1/2 years. NieNie, we’ll love you forever. Knowing you has forever changed our lives. If our love could have kept you alive, you would have lived forever.