Goodbye, Daisy

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

-C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Daisy, you punk. You have been our family cat for 18 years, and you stole my heart immediately when my parents placed you in my hands, a tiny creamsicle of fluff. With your intense adorableness, your Queen of Everything attitude (which you lived out every day of your life), your whole-hearted play and mischief, you lodged yourself a place in all of our hearts. You are a fixture, an institution.

How can you get sick and old? You still judge us all silently from your corner, from the couch where you take up more than your fair share, you still purr the loudest when we pet you just behind your ears where you like it. You still yowl for tuna and follow my dad around till he gives it you. You show my mom your keen displeasure when she has to get up from the couch or if she dare use her laptop in your presence. You allow my brothers and me to pick you up and cuddle you right after you got settled down for a nap. And you are just as cute as you were 18 years ago, just a little slower and now you need more naps. You stopped being able to climb your ladder in the back porch a few years ago, too many steps. You had to find new spots to look out the window at your domain. Now you like more people than just our family; you actually agree to being petted by others. You have mellowed out a lot, Daisy. You used to turn your back or simply stalk off in extreme displeasure when we had company. I have lovingly called you my Snot Cat, because you are so, well, snotty and stuck-up. And yet so perfect. 

Daisy, I don’t know what we are going to do without you. You taught me how to love and care for something smaller and more helpless than myself. You showed me affection when I needed it the most; on sad or stressful days, you would find me and curl up with me and purr away. I even had to learn a little about putting another’s needs before my own—getting up in the middle of the night to let you in more times than I can count. I’m sure you appreciated every single time I lost sleep for you. You showed me what true leisure is—it’s in play and delight and living in the moment and napping in the sun. Enriching every part of life, knowing I could come home after work or school, or now that I’m an adult of sorts, I can come over and visit, and find you and tease you or feed you or pet you while you napped. If your Highness permitted, of course. 

And now we have to say goodbye to you, you adorable jerk of a cat. I’m so mad at you, but I’m so thankful for you, too. You are definitely taking part of my heart with you, you punk cat. I mean, I named my first email address and Xanga account after you, and here you go getting old on me. None of us know what we will do without you. Goodbye, best kitty-princess-face of all time. You have been loved and adored every moment of your good, long life, and I know you loved us all too.