Mira was 100% cat. She was a princess. Folks who didn’t know her well said she was “snarky”. I said she was reincarnated 17th century French royalty! But, first thing in the morning and last thing at night, she would melt into my lap, and stare at me with her golden yellow eyes with a dreamy look, purring as loud as her little chest could bear. Even when she became ill, after her diagnosis of bone cancer, when the bone cancer turned her into a 3 legged kitty, she didn’t miss that first and last petting, rubbing, and loving. After her diagnosis, when I had hope in my heart, but knew the end was approaching, I would stay up all night, scratching, rubbing, petting and trying to memorize everything about her. Her soft, immaculate white fur, the elaborate whiskers she had above her eyes, the triangular shape of her head, her high cheekbones, the suppleness of her delicate neck. I memorized all I could. Her end wasn’t a surprise, yet I was shocked at how empty, hollow and cold my home felt. And Mira’s constant companion, Ed is soooo sad. She looks for Mira in all her usual places, and clings to my chest for comfort. It’s very good to have a companion in my grief. Ed was diagnosed a year ago with mammary cancer, so I had ordered the emotional impact in my heart. Ed would go first, and Mira would be my comfort. But life has its way with us, and Mira is gone, and Ed is still with me, a year after her diagnosis. This has turned my world upside down. But I have my Ed, and we will continue to mourn our friend, our love, our sister, our princess. Long may she reign. Our Mira.
