Last Tuesday I got the call and felt the world stop turning. My cat of 17 years was not well.
Skip the math but I got her when I was 13 filled with angst rebellion and misery. She was my calico-coloured light. We had an immediate understanding, a connection that bonded. She'd sit beside me and snuggle affording sandpaper kisses to only my hands. I'd let her play with my long strands of box-dyed midnight purple hair. She yank and pull but it didn't matter. Fast forward 17 years. We'd both grown and the bond only strengthened. She accepted how I changed and loved me all the same.
My cat lived with my grandparents just because that's the way it was. Then last Tuesday I got the call. There was something very wrong with Candy and she needed to see a vet fast. A whirlwind of an afternoon left us faced with the humane decision in humanity.
Whispering softly with tears streaming, I said goodbye.