Willow

After 15 years of being a cherished—and occasionally exasperating—member of my family, we said must goodbye to Willow.

Willow wasn’t a cat who really cared for people. In fact, she made her opinion about most visitors very clear. If someone came too close, they would get a warning hiss, a swat, or, if they were especially unlucky, a good scratch. But with me, she was different. I was her person, and she was my baby girl.

Willow was stubborn in a way only a cat can be. If she decided to sit somewhere, that was where she was going to stay. It didn’t matter if that somewhere happened to be directly in my path. She would simply refuse to move, even if I bumped into her. More than once, she was under my feet, so determined to be close to me that I ended up falling. I guess it was her way of making sure I never forgot she was there.

She also had a complicated relationship with her sister, Rolo. When they were younger, they were the best of friends—cuddling together, playing, and keeping each other company. As they grew older, their relationship became more of a frenemy arrangement. They learned to give each other their space, occasionally exchanging a couple of kisses before one of them followed it with a swat. It was their own special way of saying, I love you, but don’t push your luck.

Willow wanted to be touching me or cuddling with me constantly. If I was sitting in my chair she would have to have one paw on my leg and every night, she would curl beside me. If I brought someone else into the house, however, she could become quite offended—sometimes hissing at me or giving me a warning swat as if to say, How dare you bring another person into my home? She was jealous, particular, and completely convinced that I belonged to her.

And the truth is, I did.

Willow could annoy me. She could be stubborn. She could be feisty, demanding, and downright difficult. But she was also my companion, my little shadow, my cuddle buddy, and my baby girl. For 15 years, she was part of my life, and the house feels different without her in it.

I miss her being under my feet. I miss her attitude. I miss her cuddles. I miss falling asleep with her bedside me. I even miss the little things she did that used to drive me crazy.

Most of all, I miss her.

Goodbye, Willow. Thank you for 15 wonderful years of being exactly who you were. You were loved more than you could ever have known.

I love you. I miss you. And I would happily trip over you one more time just to have you back.