my bff

My Nora has died.
With respect to the other pets I have been privileged to have loved and been loved by, I was most attached to my beautiful little Nora with her compassionate green eyes.
I have learned that life is about coming together and letting go, that change is always happening and nothing stays the same. That parents and others we love die, and that children turn into independent adults and leave. That there is a beginning and an end to all things.
But knowing those things has not made her loss easier to take. I have mourned my friend.
When Jessica brought her into our home fifteen years ago, she was a tiny ball of black fur who had perhaps strayed too far from her mother. "I just want to find a home for her, " Jess coaxed. Soon the hubby asked, "Why don't we keep her?" I was always glad he said it first.
Over the years, she was never anything but delicately feminine, sensitive, affectionate, and enjoyable.
In September last year, she had a bout of illness. She quit eating or drinking and lost weight, and I gave her water with a dropper and squeezed barley and peanut butter between her teeth. "I am not going to let you die!" I pleaded. After finally expelling a huge, hard, tube shaped hairball, she bounced back for a while. But before long other symptoms started showing up. I googled them and the diagnosis of intestinal lymphoma seemed to fit. The vet agreed. He also agreed on Friday that she was too frail, and it would be merciful to let her go.
My at home habits will be changing now, as I realize all the things I did because of her. One little cat can really make a difference in your life.
I will adapt and life will go on, but I will miss her for a long time.