Molly the Cat is Gone

She had her way with us for 20 years…

…and now she has left us behind, left our world. I can clearly remember the day she strolled into our lives, a skinny, hungry stray kitten, eyeing my yogurt. Barb and I had both grown up with dogs, and we were unsure about this little girl. We had just moved into the house, the first place we’d had together where we could get a dog, and here was this scruffy little thing, needy, persistent, too proud to beg.

She visited every day for a week, and as in all our dealings with her for the next two decades, she won. We took her in, we gave her food and a bath and a bed, we cured her ear mites, and she took over our home. She was willful and obsessive and acted for all the world like exiled royalty, marking time with us until her triumphant return to the throne. For all we knew, that was exactly who she was.

It was a stormy 20 years, with a certain amount of biting and scratching, and even some furniture damage, but we’re grateful that she became our friend. We grew to love her, even the biting and scratching, and we’re not quite sure how to handle the calm after the storm.

Molly the Cat lives now and always in my heart.

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2 Replies to “Molly the Cat is Gone”

  1. How they choose us, why they choose us … a mystery. I’ve never had a cat that wasn’t the result of chance. Like all loves. Some enchanted whatever. When we got Toon at the animal shelter, was it because she happened to be playing with her cagemate so prettily instead of sleeping? Or was it because for both of us she was the reincarnation of tabbies from childhood? She left us long ago, after 21 years. Sweet natured. Preternaturally intelligent. Capable of communicating with a glance. Fur soft as plush. Still we talk of her often and fondly remember her as “the best cat in the world.” Somewhere, I’m sure, she and Molly occupy their rightful thrones.

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