A good-bye
When I was 16 my mom took me to get a kitten at the local humian society(Or the pound if you prefer). There she fell in love with a little orange tabby kitten. He was the one of two of a litter left in that cage and so my mom insisted I get this brother a orange and white tabby so they wouldn't be lonely. She named this orange kitten Nicky after her grandfather and I named mine Remo. They kept each other company and loved to keep me company too. Nicky was the hunter bringing home mice and snakes, not always dead ones either. Remo was calmer, almost wiser. He even learned to fetch. Nicky loved attention always enjoying a lap to sit on and a good firm rub. Shortly after my husband died Remo was hit by a car. An ironic twist of fate. We burried him under a tree in my mom's backyard. Nicky, now alone seemed a little lost and wanted more attention. For awhile this was alright with my mom. I had moved out when I got married and taking care of myself and my daughter was about all I felt I could do at the time. So when my Mom asked me to take Nicky I couldn't. Thankfully my Dad took him. Even brought him all the way to Seattle to live until he moved down this way a few years ago. In the last few months Nicky had been losing a lot of weight. His hip bones and ribs sticking out and his coat looking a little scraggily. We started feeding him more wet food hoping he'd gain weight. He didn't. Yesterday, on fathers day, my Dad called to tell me Nicky had died. He was 12 years old, fairly old for a cat. We think he died peacefully of that old age. It's funny how the loss of a pet can effect you. I'll miss him and wish that I'd spent a little more time scratching his old bones with him on my lap. I hope he is someplace with warm sunshine to lay in and with lots of small critters to hunt, and back with his brother, Remo, for company.
