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I'm sitting here feeling surprisingly depressed. My parents called earlier to tell me that my cat, Pixie, died. Not the feline boarder that currently lives with me, but this was my cat from when I was in high school. So, when I moved away for college, then graduate school, etc ... she stayed with my parents. Pixie was quite old. She was at least 21, as close as we can figure, so she had had a very long, good life.
I had gotten her mother, Ashes, when I first started high school, and, shortly after she came to live with us, Ashes turned up in a "family way". So, I was there when Pixie was born. And, she was just always there, you know? Unlike our other cats, Pixie didn't do much roaming. She stayed close to home. We always joked that she did it just to bother us. She was a very irritating cat, too. She was loud and obnoxious and very needy. You could never hold her or pet her enough. No matter how long you held her or how much attention you gave her, she would still follow you around, complaining at the top of her lungs. And, she had a meow that was ungodly. Seriously. It was so loud, you would swear people could hear it three counties over. Not only that, but she would meow for hours on end. All of our other cats despised her (even though they were all related to her). And, yet, Pixie didn't really care. She just went her own way ... did her own thing ... and lived her little life with as much dignity as possible. And, you know what? I loved her for that. I guess we all did. I mean, why else put up with such an irritating pet for 21 years? We would always joke about how quiet it would be when she was gone, but, in a way, I guess none of us ever truly believed she would die. I mean, she was practically a force of nature, you know? A tiny, dainty cat with a very big meow. Today, though, my dad called and told me it was really quiet at their house, and I could hear his voice breaking as he said it. It makes me cry, too, to think of that sudden silence.
And, I suppose, in a way, three adults sitting on the phone and crying together is a pretty fitting memorial for one of the most irritating -- and yet most beloved -- cats I have ever known. I can't help but smile through my tears as I think about Pixie, up in Heaven, and following St. Peter around as she serenades him with a never-ending chorus of raspy-rattly-growly-sounding MEOWS. Here's to you Pixie. A little cat with a very big meow. Rest in peace, sweetheart.
I had gotten her mother, Ashes, when I first started high school, and, shortly after she came to live with us, Ashes turned up in a "family way". So, I was there when Pixie was born. And, she was just always there, you know? Unlike our other cats, Pixie didn't do much roaming. She stayed close to home. We always joked that she did it just to bother us. She was a very irritating cat, too. She was loud and obnoxious and very needy. You could never hold her or pet her enough. No matter how long you held her or how much attention you gave her, she would still follow you around, complaining at the top of her lungs. And, she had a meow that was ungodly. Seriously. It was so loud, you would swear people could hear it three counties over. Not only that, but she would meow for hours on end. All of our other cats despised her (even though they were all related to her). And, yet, Pixie didn't really care. She just went her own way ... did her own thing ... and lived her little life with as much dignity as possible. And, you know what? I loved her for that. I guess we all did. I mean, why else put up with such an irritating pet for 21 years? We would always joke about how quiet it would be when she was gone, but, in a way, I guess none of us ever truly believed she would die. I mean, she was practically a force of nature, you know? A tiny, dainty cat with a very big meow. Today, though, my dad called and told me it was really quiet at their house, and I could hear his voice breaking as he said it. It makes me cry, too, to think of that sudden silence.
And, I suppose, in a way, three adults sitting on the phone and crying together is a pretty fitting memorial for one of the most irritating -- and yet most beloved -- cats I have ever known. I can't help but smile through my tears as I think about Pixie, up in Heaven, and following St. Peter around as she serenades him with a never-ending chorus of raspy-rattly-growly-sounding MEOWS. Here's to you Pixie. A little cat with a very big meow. Rest in peace, sweetheart.
