My second cat, Shadow, passed away at home yesterday evening from complications due to old age. His poor old body just gave out at last, and he died peacefully snugged, warm in my arms. He was just over 17 years old. I'm really not handling it very well at all, but I am grateful that I was able to be with him at the end. He was the loviest cat I've ever known, and one of the cutest as well. I'll miss him every day.
Shadow was born a stray in the red-dirt wilds of Eastern Oklahoma, and I found his little stinky kitten butt on the verge of keeling over from a respiratory infection in November of 1994. After a trip to the vet, he settled in to a life of feline crime with his adopted brother, Wolfie. I called him The Pewter Villain for years because of his penchant for waking me up at 3:00 in the morning by nudging picture frames to scrape across the wall.
He loved to sleep on his back with his head hanging over the edge of flat surfaces (couches, boxes, desks, laps) and he dearly loved to snug.
I often woke with him wrapped around my head like a purring turban. He enjoyed going outside in a little harness to lay on the concrete and blink at the birds. He even loved little kids. A more laid-back cat you are not likely to find.
We alter lyrics for the cats all the time, and his song was to the tune of My Sherona (my Shadow-a). Goofy, yes, but he liked it. I'll still sing it to him when I'm in the front yard. He rests now in the flower bed beneath my bedroom window, so he'll always be close to us, like he'd want to be. Rest well, my little villain; you've earned it. I love you.