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03 September, 2014
Yesterday, September 1st, my best friend died. She was fourteen, furry, and had four legs. My cat was my best friend, my heart, my confident, and my compass. Nothing makes sense since she passed. She fell ill on a Friday and by Monday morning she was gone. Can a cat be a best friend? Yes. She woke me up before my alarm every morning, and if I tried to sleep in late on the weekends she was on the job. Her meows, and head butts to nudge me awake, as if to say "good morning friend, let's have some fun today." I will miss her smiles. I will miss her licking me whenever I was down, or sad, or had gone through a break up or a rough time at work. I will miss her warmth as she curled up in my lap, and kneaded my legs to make a comfy spot for herself. I will miss her curled up next to me in bed, or lying across my legs in bed. I will miss my writing partner. She would lay under my writing chair in such a way that it was difficult for me to get up or move my chair, so I would find myself sitting in my chair for hours writing. I believe she knew exactly what she was doing. And times that I could get up, I would see her peering at me from under the chair as if to say "we're not done today are we?" Her presence eased my loneliness, her antics as she played with her toys or ran up and down my stairs made me laugh. She loved to carry on conversations with me. She loved tuna. She loved lying on the screened in porch, to spend hours looking at nature or napping in the sun. I had fourteen years to be loved unconditionally by this magnificent cat and I am thankful for every second I had with her. I miss her terribly.