death of a pet

Whiskered kisses

There’s one thing I can count on at the shelter and that is the warm furry greetings I get at the door.

Walking in there and seeing all those bright eyes and whiskered faces makes me smile somewhere deep inside. Every day, a precious bunch of cats line up by the door, each vying for the highest perch. And they wait their turn to be greeted by name, with a loving scruff between the ears, a scratch on their back just before their tail, or for some, no touches, just brief eye-to-eye contact. In return, I’m serenaded with a perfectly tuned chorus of purrs. I’m butted by adoring little heads, forced to stand still as furry bodies wind themselves around my legs and my most favorite greeting of all, given wet little whiskered kisses on my cheek.

It’s the whiskered kisses of one I’m going to miss. The whiskered kiss I always saved for last because it was the most adoring, the most innocent and unassuming of all.

Frannie, I’m stunned and saddened. For a small boy, you certainly filled the space… and my heart. I won’t be the only one to miss you, and I’m not the only one confused by your passing. Never a day went by without a contented spring in your step – especially when you set off to spit out your pill somewhere “private”, or a laugh at the way you grumbled while scratching your ears – as if you hated having to scratch them yourself.

You’ll be missed by human and feline alike and you will always, always be loved.

Frannie     Frannie snoozing

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