Crazy Yenna

This week, I will pay someone hundreds of dollars to put my cat to sleep. We have had Willow for eighteen years. She's a muted grey tortoiseshell, and she likes tuna and sunbeams and catching nice, and she likes me. She used to lick the tip of my nose while getting cuddles.

She stole a chicken breast off my brother-in-law's plate when he cat-sat for us once. She caught a mouse in the back yard the day she came home from being spayed. She used to run out of bedroom, up the sofa, then the wall, and tag the ceiling, only to do it over again.

I named her for the pussy-willow-like fur on her chest, and because of Willow Rosenberg. She has moved with us from Brantford, to Toronto, to Stratford, and back to Brantford. She's outlived her "sister" Harley, our rabbit Max, and several hamsters and Pinky The Mouse.

She has been by our side for longer than we've been a couple. She was there when we started our lives as husband and wife, when Gabe came home for the first time... She's been there for everything. And soon, she won't be. Soon, she'll just be... Gone.

And I don't know if I can handle it. She's not just a cat. She's MY cat. My old girl. My friend. And I'm going to pay someone hundreds of dollars, then say goodbye to her as she goes to sleep for the last time. My Willow.

So for anyone out there reading this, give your pets extra hugs, scratches, and treats in memory of Willow. She'd appreciate the extra tribute. Pets stay long enough to become a major part of your life, and then when they leave they take part of you with them.