by Anne Brodgesell

Created on: February 18, 2009   Last Updated: March 19, 2009

Last night we said goodbye to our beloved Kitty. Although she was 16 and diabetic, we thought we'd still have many years to love and spoil her.

When we picked her from the shelter all those years ago, she was a tiny bundle of affectionate energy. We had never owned a cat before but had borrowed several books from our local library so were pretty confident that we were up to the challenge. The first few days were terrifying. We followed the directions we had read on how to acclimate a kitten into a new home but were being amateurs, we were sure we were causing Kitty irreparable psychological damage. She was terribly patient with us. She felt that although we weren't terribly bright, we had the best intentions.

We discovered that sleeping with a kitten in the house was to become an exercise in patience and forethought. It occurred to me that as she was just a baby, perhaps some of the same bedtime methods were in order and might be just the ticket to get her to sleep. Thus began our nightly rocking sessions. Once all the human distractions were in bed or at least out of her line of vision, I would hold her and rock her to sleep. Once she was asleep I would put her in her special "nest" on the couch and she would sleep the night through without once waking to try and find a nocturnal playmate.

I went back to work full time when she was six years old, so we thought she might need some company during the day. We visited the local animal shelter to find a sister for her. Inside one of the cages was a bedraggled, whiskerless little black kitten that piteously meowed as we looked in. We were hooked. We proudly brought our new family member home, secure in the knowledge that Kitty would be delighted with our gift. Until the moment I showed her the tiny head peeking from my coat, we had never heard a cat hiss or spit. She wasn't quite as thrilled as we were by the new addition. Over a period of a few weeks, when she saw the interloper was here to stay, she took to her mothering duties with relish. As Vitani, our new kitten wasn't even able to bathe herself; Kitty took great satisfaction in doing the job for her. Many times after a thorough bath from Kitty, Vitani would come wobbling around a corner with her damp fur sticking up all over her head in the feline version of a Mohawk.

Our lives settled into a pattern for the next nine years. Kitty became the stately Queen of our home and Vitani, her somewhat mischievous accomplice. Last January, Kitty was diagnosed with Feline

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