Three years is not enough...
by Chuck E.
We were in the process of selling our house in Florida and staying with my parents. They had 2 dogs and a cat, and that was fine. I was outside working on a project when a stray torti-tabby came by to say hello. I tried to ignore her, and told my wife that she was not, under any circumstances, to fall in love with "it".
Fortunately for me, I didn't listen to my own words, because by the end of the day, I had decided she was a keeper. We named her Tatiana, took her to the vet to make sure she was healthy, got her shots and spayed. We eventually broke down and adopted her sister as well, and named her Tiger Lily.
Tati liked to sit on my chest as I sat in my recliner and watched TV, or she would sit in my lap as I played games on the computer. She loved to hunt and bring me her "gifts", and had a lovely spicy smell about her that I've never noticed on any other feline. She became my "little girl", as we have 2 boys to show for 7 pregnancies, but after 5 miscarraiges, our reproductive days are done.
One day I noticed she was looking thin and her appetite had dropped off. The next day she didn't have the energy to jump up to the litter box, and she seemed embarrassed when she urinated on the floor in front of it. Around 2am, she lay in my arms and shook. I told her it was OK to go if it hurt too bad, and she took her last breath. I buried her in a wooden box, wrapped in one of my shirts, and marked her resting place with a stone that I chiseled her name into.
It's been 5 years now since she left, and I'm still near to tears as I write this, I really miss her still. Her sister is loved and healthy, but she's not quite the same either. Anybody who would tell me that pets don't go to heaven won't have any luck convincing me.