We lost our oldest kitty, Xena, a few weeks ago due to liver failure.
She was a good cat. We miss her. She would have been 14 years old next week. She was never sick a day in her life until the end. She had a feisty personality. A couple of times a year we have a road race that runs through our neighborhood (today was one of those days). Xena hated it. She would glare at the runners from our front yard, tail twitching. I think she was secretly hoping one of them would dare set foot on our property.
Xena and her brother Leo were born on Nunsense opening night. I played Reverend Mother and it was our daughter’s debut in a non-school production as Sister Mary Leo (Leo was named after her). Even as a kitten, she was a warrior.
Xena was a loner. She didn’t hang out with the other cats. She ignored the dogs. She mostly ignored me unless she was hungry. She did love hanging out with me when I wrote and we both enjoyed watching the birds and squirrels, but for different reasons. She started out as our daughter’s cat, but once Daughter grew up and moved out, she turned her affection to Hubby and Son. They were with her when she came into the world (her mother was a pregnant stray who moved in with us one cold, rainy Thanksgiving night) and they were with her when she left.
Xena loved Christmas, her chair on the front porch (which looks heartbreakingly vacant now that I don’t see her in it when I come home from work). If you look close, you can see her in her chair. She loved the wreath.
We love you, Xena. It’s not the same without you.
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