She came to us as a used kitten - thats how the shelter described her.
She had been adopted briefly once before but returned when her previous
owner could no longer care for her. We never saw her as used to us, she
was simply waiting for the right family. From the moment she arrived, it
felt like she had always belonged with us.
We learned quickly that she was unlike any other cat: she was allergic
to catnip, something we only discovered after removing it and seeing how
much more comfortable she became. It was one of the many little mysteries
she carried, each one making her feel even more special.
She had a deep bond with the kids, and they with her. Their affection for
each other was immediate and unwavering. She would curl up next to them,
follow them from room to room, and sit quietly while they read or played.
Her gentle presence became part of their daily lives, a source of quiet
comfort and love.
She loved sitting by the patio door, watching the birds and rabbits in
the backyard like it was her own private nature show. And when she wasnt
by the window, she was sometimes above us - perched on top of the kitchen
cabinets, calmly observing everything like a wise guardian keeping watch
over her domain.
She never quite warmed up to the dog, but she did her best. There was a
quiet truce between them, a kind of mutual tolerance that, in its own
way, was a form of peace. She found her own corners of the house, her
own routines, and always made it clear that she would share her space-but
only on her terms.
In the end, she passed away peacefully, resting on my daughters lap-one
final, tender moment that said everything about the bond they shared. It
was incredibly hard to say goodbye. But we take comfort in knowing that
she lived a long, happy life, filled with love, warmth, and a family that
adored her.
She may have started out as someone elses cat, but she became ours
completely-and we will always be grateful for the years we had
with her.
We miss you, Ginny.
cf,