You had to walk with hushed steps. Be gentle, kind, and careful in
her presence. And if you could muster up enough consideration
to match one small slice of her thoughtful heart, she would curl
into a ball of warm happiness on your lap.
You couldn’t be a normal human. The simple act of placing a
glass back on the counter one decible too loud was reckless and
intimidating to her. She would bound away, agile, light on her
paws, and linger around unseeable in stealth mode.
She loved to sprawl on the heater and doze, casually glimpsing
the world going by with her crisp green eyes, making my sister and
I wish I could be a cat for a day I’d fantasize on my way to
the headache inducing, white flourescent lit dungeon that was school.
Then one day I was a young man and she was dying. I found her at
the top of the staircase unable to move, whispering meows for
help. So I laid down next to her and kept her warm for a minute.
She looked right at me when the vet gave her the needle.
I wept as her eyes froze.