One day in New Orleans, a beautiful black cat showed up on my doorstep and quickly became one of the street cats who lived on our porch. I named all of them after things my husband was interested in, hoping he would warm up to the idea of taking care of these cats. Thus, Zoot was named after the triathlon brand—and it ended up being the perfect name for him. We fell in love with him, and when we decided to move to Colorado, we knew we couldn’t leave him behind.
When we adopted Zoot, we knew that his lifespan with FIV (an immune disease in cats) could potentially be short, but that never stopped him from living the most beautiful, fulfilling life. He loved his Mr. Green Mouse, lying in the sun, and going for nightly walks on his harness—much to the neighbors’ delight.
Some may say that he was only a cat, but he was so much more. He saved me. I know that God put him on that porch 10 years ago because He knew I needed him—not the other way around. Living in Colorado has not been what I expected, and Zoot was my strength through the struggles. He lifted my soul when I needed it most and brought more joy and laughter into my life than I could have ever imagined.
There’s so much I miss about him, but one thing that has been especially hard to let go of is our nightly ritual—when he and I would sit on the couch together after Luis went to bed, and he would let me rub him to sleep.
Thank you for loving us, and for letting us love you, Zoot. Thank you for choosing us.
