I’ve been having a rough time ever since I had to put down Lucky, my old lady cat, last week. Every time I go into the living room I reflexively check to see where she is, every shadow turns into her, every noise a sign of her mischief. I feel lonely without her, even though I have my husband and two other pets.
I’ve known her all of her 16 years. She was born on the back porch of my grandma’s apartment. The mama cat took the rest of the litter somewhere, but never came back for Lucky. My cousin rescued her and named her. I don’t really remember much of her early days, or even years. I might have helped feed her, though I was a super anxious teenager at the time, always terrified of doing something wrong.
When my husband and I took her in, 8 or 9 years ago, she had been living the life of an outdoor barn cat. That changed, as neither of us are comfortable letting our pets roam freely outside. She adapted quickly to being an indoors only cat, and actively avoided the door. She was pretty grumpy in general, and vocal about it. Definitely a cat that only wanted affection on her terms.
She’d come up to me or my husband and make herself nice and comfy, on my lap or his chest. We’d pet her, and she’d purr and purr, and it made us both feel special. Then she’d realize, wait, I’m being affectionate, and zoom off, grumping the whole way.
Despite her flaws, she was a good kitty, and is sorely missed.
UPDATE: We got Lucky’s ashes back from the vet on December 2nd. A small, but comforting thing. She’s sitting on top of the book case next to me.