Jun 12, 2012 19:36
The day I got you, you were a tiny, dirty little thing with matted fur. That's why I named you Scruffy. They didn't think you would last a week, but you proved them wrong. You were stronger and braver than anyone thought, and you grew into a beautiful cat; so beautiful that I wondered if I'd given you the wrong name.
But looks can be deceiving, and I soon learned that there was a naughty side hiding behind that cute exterior. You peed and pooped on my carpet. You tried to drink out of the faucet. You tried to drink my water and then knocked it on the floor. And you tried to steal the food Mom made for our holiday dinners until I finally started locking you up. You might have been adorable, but you were a dirty little rascal, so you still lived up to your name.
And yet I never managed to stay mad at you for long. You would jump on my bed and curl up on top of me, and all my anger would melt away. I loved the feel of your soft, warm little body against my skin, and how strange yet sweet it looked when that soft, warm little body was nestled up to Lucy's much fatter one.
You were there to comfort me and give me strength when I was afraid to go to school because some mean kids were picking on me. In college, looking at your picture on my nightstand helped ease my loneliness and homesickness. And when I was feeling worthless because I couldn't find a job, you were there to let me know you thought I was worth loving unconditionally.
I hope you know how much your love meant to me, and how much you were (and still are) loved in return. I was truly blessed to have the opportunity to love and care for you these past 13 years. I can't hold you in my arms anymore, but I can still hold you in my heart, and I will, always. Thank you for being a part of my life.
Your mama and best friend,
Aimee