On May 9, 1998, I became yours. As I went to the Chicago Anti-Cruelty Society, you spread the word that I was yours. As I introduced myself to the other cats, they were friendly, but a bit aloof; one cat even hissed at me. Then I met you and you immediately rolled over and let me rub your belly – I knew I was yours. I was honored, because of all the humans you had met, you had selected me.
It was then you played your first practical joke. You had instructed one of your human minions to grill me about letting you be an outside cat.
“Do you plan on letting her outside?”
“What if you really wants to go outside?”
“Wellll, if you really wants to go outside…”
“You can get all kinds of infections or ticks or fleas, she shouldn’t be outside.”
“OK, I won’t let her outside.”
After the grilling was over, I was official yours.
You told your previous owners that your name was Heidi. You told another of my friends your name was Annabelle. Oh, how you loved to mess with people! You told me your real name was Dixie, because I was yours.
During the first night at home, you allowed me to sleep on the bed with you, because I was yours.
Thereafter, you would sit on my chest for hours, and if I had to get up to eat or go to the bathroom, you would follow me to make sure I was OK. You were always so sweet, and waited for me at the door. You preferred sleeping on daddy’s lap instead of playing. Because, I was yours.
You loved tortilla chips, Cheetos, and olives. In fact, you loved all food. Perhaps that is why you became the chunky kitty with the pretty face. In your later years, you loved playing beauty parlor with mommy. But most of all, you loved your daddy, because I was yours.
You would groom my hand when you bathed yourself. After I returned from a weekend away or a vacation, you would show pleasure that I was home by giving me kitty kisses. You would also show your displeasure that I left by biting me between kisses followed by turning your back to me, letting me know I wasn’t to leave, because I was yours.
You weren’t perfect. You were not a graceful cat. You once fell off the bookcase, trying to climb from one shelf to another. You used to chew the corners of the wood coffee table. You destroyed a couch with your claws. What could I do? You’re a cat, and I was yours.
You were jealous. Oh were you jealous. When other people came to the house, you sat at my feet or in my lap and glared at them, daring them to come close to your daddy. You let everyone know: I was yours. When you got your stepbrother, you were less than pleased. He had the nerve to sit on daddy’s lap, sometimes when you were there! Didn’t he know I was yours? You learned to share, but not that well with your stepbrother. You were OK though, because I was still yours.
In December 2013, you went blind. It took me a couple weeks to notice because you didn’t want me to know or worry, because I was yours.
When your arthritis attacked your hip during your last two years, and you cried out for daddy, I came as quickly as I could, because I was yours.
When you no longer had the strength to hold yourself up with your hind legs, you gave me one last kiss, letting me know one last time that I was yours.
Goodbye Dixie. I love you.