In Loving Memory

My kitty cat died on Tuesday. I got the call that night and have been feeling very sad about his loss. He was such a funny little cat, and the two of us were good pals. Even though I only got to visit him a few times a year for the last several years, when I arrived, I'd get out of the car and call his name. Usually after a few moments, he'd come running out from wherever he'd been playing in the neighborhood to greet me. It's hard to think that next time I go home, he won't be there.

Sebastian came into our lives 11 years ago as a gift to me from my dad. He was the cutest little kitten with a tiny little tail that stuck confidently straight up in the air. He slept in a little cardboard box that I carried around with me till he woke up. He liked to play with my old purple sock and jump over the bottom rungs of chair. With my other cats, I could hide behind a door and dangle a string, and they'd reach under the door to try to grab it. Sebastian, however, took all of 3 seconds to figure out that if he ran AROUND the door, he could not only grab the string, but also pounce on the source of the dangling. At night, he'd shift between pouncing on invisible foes in the mattress to snuggling right up to my chin and purring. He liked to be near people and be up high, so the kitchen table was a favorite place of his. It got to the point where, as we knelt for morning prayer, we had to each hold a hand over the top of our orange juice glass; otherwise, we'd open our eyes to find a little kitty cat lapping it up for himself.

As he matured, his confidence only increased. My mom, in an attempt to train him NOT to jump on the table, bought a water gun. At first, he'd hop down and run away when he got squirted. But after about two times, when he saw my mom get the gun, he just shut his eyes tight and held his ground, waiting for the worst to be over so he could continue his exploration of the table setting. At night, if he wanted attention, and my parents wouldn't give it to him (because they were asleep), he'd GET their attention by pulling out the bedspread threads with his teeth. And when he needed some refreshment, he'd go back to the bathroom and meow until someone turned the bathtub on to a slight trickle so that he could drink fresh water. (None of this stagnant bowl stuff for him!) But, to his credit, he also meowed when he was done, until someone came to turn the water off.

I sure did love my little kitty. I loved to call home and hear him meowing in the background or even sometimes purring as he sat in my mom's lap. I loved the way he'd come find me at night and plop down on the ground so I could pet him after everyone else had gone to bed. And I loved that he was just the funniest, most cat-like cat who ever lived. Maybe some people would chalk this up to "just part of life" and move on after a moment of sadness. But I'll never forget my sweet little kitty. I'm so glad that I got to be his friend.