I would have celebrated Morgan’s 19th birthday on my birthday: May 11th. That’s about equivalent to being a 90 year old human. She had feline diabetes for the last 4 years of her life. She was a very cool cat, and every memory I have for the last 18+ years links to that cat in some way.
It’s hard to not have her around and hear her perfectly rhythmic purr, to hear her duck-like (or goat-like) bleats, to not feel her shiny fur. Not to wake up to her cold nose in my face. On March 16th things got too complicated and it was time to let her go. It’s hard to have been there for her every moment of her life, and then to let her go. To not know what happens to her now, to not be there with her, to give up protecting her. I hope wherever she is she can see perfectly, run and jump like she used to, there’s no pain, and she remembers that I love her.
I keep hoping I’ll have something brilliant to write that shows how wonderful my little embodiment of perfection was. I guess I’ll have to settle for knowing she was loved.
There’s a small flikr set of her.