Figaro being his lazy self
We adopted Figaro into our family when I was not yet three years old. At the time, I was an only child. He was a young kitten, and the only one in his litter that did not protest when I picked him up and played with him. We connected immediately.
As a kitten, he loved to play with marbles and catnip-filled mouse toys. When we brought my sister home from the hospital when I was four, Figaro flipped out in response to the strange and alarming cry of a newborn - he literally was driven up the wall!
As he grew into adulthood, Figaro mellowed out but retained his deep connection to me and a slight aversion to my little sister. He tolerated three different dogs (one at a time) and three or four different houses throughout his life with my family.
I always felt that he understood everything I told him, and I was as close with him as I was with any of my family or best friends. Sure, we had little quirks that annoyed each other, but we were great friends.
Around the beginning of April this year (2010), I was on spring break in Nashville, Tennessee, visiting the college I am attending this fall. On the morning we were preparing to head home, the pet sitter called and told us that Figaro was not doing well. He had had something like a stroke a few months before, and we knew his time was running out.
The pet sitter took Figaro to the vet, who told me over the phone that Figaro was miserable and dying. It would have been cruel to keep him alive until I could return home. Tearfully, I asked the vet to tell Figaro I loved him, and that being done, the pet sitter sat by Figaro's side as they euthanized him. The worst part of all was that I had forgotten to say goodbye to Figaro before I left for Tennessee.
I miss him. Maybe I'll be reunited with him in Heaven someday. I hope.