Chloe is a cat.

Rather, Chloe was a cat. She is now a memory, and I miss the furry little creature that was my friend for several years here on Earth. Chloe died almost a month ago now, and while I have gradually stopped anticipating her many needs, I still tear up a little when I think I hear her on the stairs.

All pet lovers know the anguish of saying goodbye to our companions. Losing family, as I also have recently, can be devastating, of course, but it’s so different. Pets never judge–well, they do, but they still love us. And they are ever-present when we adopt them, not like our children who are meant to learn and grow and fly, but with us as long as they live. Death is all a part of it, as is sickness.

Chloe had been sick for a number of years before she became so weak throughout the fall. She had her regular vet visits, medicine, some testing, and we treated it as much as we could to improve her life. When poking and prodding become too much of the day-to-day, though, it seems kinder to let a kitty be a kitty as best as she can still feel good and purr. Cats put up a brave front for a long, long time, but I have had so many.. and anyway, when the end is near, they tell you.

Chloe never was one to keep her feelings to herself. She was the most polite and regal of cats, never destructive, but sometimes naughty in her pursuit of adventure. She was curious, talkative, and opinionated from the moment we brought her home from the shelter, and she kept a running commentary with me as she sat at my feet while I wrote. I miss her editing skills, and her input, but most of all, I miss her company.

Goodbye, my precious friend.

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