To My First Baby Farrah

How did it go so fast? We found each other in the shelter when I was just a kid. You climbed my arm like a little squirrel, kissed my face, and I instantly knew you were my cat. I brought you home in that cardboard box and I remember how full my heart was holding our newest family member on my lap. You were so afraid and quiet when you first explored your home. That didn’t last long. You were fearless with the three dogs you’d end up best friends with.

When you were 3, you developed a seizure disorder. I remember that fear clearly, thinking I was going to lose you so quickly. Instead, my life shifted to being home for you every 12 hours to give your meds. I always said how lucky I was to have this happen to the sweetest, most gentle cat I’d ever known. My wet noodle kitty without a mean or defensive bone in your body. You lived on having no issues otherwise. You were the constant in my life, the reason I had a routine. 11 years later, we’re here.

I brought your ashes home in a little box last night. My days have no order anymore. Our house is too quiet. Your sister looks for you and I can’t bear to move any of your things. You were a once-in-a-lifetime, amazing, utterly cherished cat. I’ve spent more of my life with you than without. I miss everything about you. You are forever loved and part of my story. Rest easy, baby kitty. You will always be in my heart.