Lily was 4 years old when she came into my life. I can't fathom taking my pet of 4 years to the pound, but that's where she came from. My sister gave her to me for what was supposed to only be a one week stay; one week turned into 9 years. All of those years, I had wondered what she was like as a kitten, what were the things that shaped her into this little creature who grew bolder and braver with age? She aged into a brazen food thief, stealing bacon and pancakes when your head was turned. She was scared of a cockroach but not a chipmunk. I never understood why you needed to be at least 13 years old to touch her. Sorry kids, she really was a nice cat.
In the final weeks of her life, I was desperately trying to make her healthy again and dreading the decision that was facing me. I was beginning to accept that 13 years was what her life was going to be. All the same, I wanted more time with her, I wanted those 4 years that someone else got. I hope I gave her a good life. Lily really was a very good cat.
Goodbye sweet Lily.
1 comment:
Tears in my eyes. I know, you already told me on FB...still, it's sad and so recognizable as I went through the same in September 2007 when my cat ici died (after 15 years)...they looked identical Lilly and Ici, remember you said that once as well when you saw the picture of Ici on my FB.
Anyway...I'm back on your blog to see what I've missed..
Post a Comment