A cat

Cats get a bum's rush, sometimes.

They're often portrayed as self-absorbed, aloof, cold creatures, inferior to a dog because they lack the loyalty, devotion and subservient manner of the canine.

Perhaps, in some cases, this is true.

My cats, however...are different. And they always have been.

The cats in my life are smart. Loyal. Companions.

Two in particular. Maynerd, aka Nerdie, my long-awaited-6-month-deferred graduation gift who was with me from '83 until 2001...
and Molly.
When an animal comes into my life, especially if it is one that I have chosen, or been chosen by, I intend for it to live it's days with me. Never is it with impulse alone.
NEVER.
It can't always be that way, but most often, in my life, it is.
Molly came to us in 1994, as a 5 wk itty ball of fluff. She didn't know about real food yet or many other kitty things, so...
I taught her.
How to eat.
How to use a litter box, especially how to "flush"...the boy kitties, especially Nerd, never covered anything. Molly became so set on this that she would, and still does, cover up after any other cats.
Nerd taught her how to clean herself, how to play, especially how to fetch.
But Molly was not a cuddler.
Not until Nerd died. Before then, he was my constant companion. When I wasn't stationary, the two of them cuddled.
But after Nerd, when I was grieving, Molly climbed up beside me.
She still didn't purr much...
That came just a bit before older daughter took off, when things were dicey and difficult. One morning, as I moved out to the couch, wrapped in a blanket, worrying, Molly jumped up beside me, nudged her way under the blanket, nestled in my lap and began to purr.
We've been almost inseparable ever since.
She has been my comfort.
A joy.
A living piece of stability that has helped me to focus and stay the course. Many thoughts have come to me as my mind quiets, and focuses, settled by her warm body, steady purr, acceptance of my tears on her and absolute lack of demand for anything.
20 yrs.
Tomorrow, I fulfill my last, solemn, duty of stewardship with this sweet spirit.
I won't deny that a part of my heart is dying right now. Something in me began to ache a bit ago as I recognized this event approaching.
Now, that something has begun to hurt.
I'm taking her north, back to our old vet. They know me. They will not argue with me when I sit on the floor, holding my girl. They know that there is no way around it.

Tonight, she's as close physically as she can be. She always is. Her body doesn't generate the warmth she needs very well these days, so I give her mine. She's frail in frame, but her purr, and her nose nudges, are as full and real as always.

The dogs, they feel my sadness, and are gathered close as well. They aren't bothering Molly, and tonight, she doesn't care that they are here.

Just a cat?
No.

Animals have always been my companions into pain. And they have stayed with me and brought me out, back into joy. I've never had a human who understood my emotions in this situation, who would simply sit watch with me, so I've stopped asking for that. I can't say, however, that I don't wish for someone to know. I don't need, or expect, answers. Or for it to be "fixed"...nothing is broken. It's part of life, part of the gig.
But, if I tell no-one, they can't know. I suppose it's easier this way, for me, rather than have the burden of misunderstanding of what I hope for tossed on top. But that's my issue.
Molly and me.