Seventeen years, two months, and ten days

this planet was graced with a big, stupid white cat who was the most loving, sweet creature I have ever encountered. This morning Spock died in my arms of congestive heart failure, an ancient specimen of cathood who was healthy right up the last few days. That in itself was a blessing, for he did not suffer long.

I have had him since he was a kitten. Somewhere I have a picture of him nose to nose with a hamster and they're about the same size. He was white with one blue eye and one green one, and he was named for the grey Star Trek logo on his head and the pointed ears. It was an ironic choice, because as a cat he was rather retarded (we think he was a bunny in his last lifetime). He recognised light, sound, Mom, 'nice lady' (any female), and was fond of just about everyone he ever encountered. He was very vocal and always met me at the door until right before the end. I will sooooo miss his kitten-like qualities. He had none of the scheming aloofness of cats, but was open and loving and sweet, and my life is richer for having him, and poorer for the loss. But I will always have memories, and althought I have a memory like a sieve, I have strong, loving memories of Spock that will never flow away.

I remember picking out a kitten from the litter and how the only one I could catch was Spock; I must have caught him two or three times before I finally concluded we were meant to be together. I was afraid he might be partly deaf, you see, because of that blue eye. He wasn't, and in the end I don't think it would have mattered if he were, although personality-wise I can't imagine him growing up on the farm with his littermates, either. He was born to be loved as a companion, something he did admirably. He wasn't the smartest, or even the most coordinated of cats, but he was the most loving. He saw me through a divorce and through all the long years after. We used to joke that I'd wind up in a mental hospital when he went, but in the end, it was a blessing, because it was so hard for him to breathe, and he was howling in frustration and pain. After a few minutes I was considering taking him to an emergency clinic to be put down (it was nearly three in the morning), and I prayed that he would find peace and just held him and told him I loved him over and over, crying the whole time, and then he just passed, suddenly peaceful, and in a moment it was over. I thank the Gods my prayers were answered. But oh, he will be sorely missed!

My thanks to those in my life who are helping me through this difficult time, and to YKWIA for paying for the cremation. It means a lot to be able to keep some part of him with me. I know you understand, even though I'm sure there are those out there who would never understand what a difference one cat could make in a person's life.

Requiescat in pacem, Spocker, caro mio. You were my first taste of unconditional love. I will never lose the lessons you taught me.