I’m writing to lament the loss of my 14yr old kitteh. She was not just a cat. She was so much bigger than that. To really explain, I must start at the beginning.

So my mom got me my first cat, a kitten to be precise. I don’t remember how old I was, probably elementary school. We had had some strays here and there, but this was my first cat, truly mine. Well, the cat was psychotic. He would hunt and stalk you in the house, leaping out and biting the ever lovin’ shit out of you. I mean gouging teeth marks. This was the Pet Cemetery cat. Once, this cat was curled up by my face, purring as I pet him, and he bit my face! PSYCHOTIC. He even bit my grandmother, not that cats can tell age. We grew to hate him, even wished he would get hit by a car. I mean, I’ve never wished that, on anyone or anything, save a few errant squirrels. We truly wished this cat would get mowed down and we’d be rid of him. So we did the next best thing and gave him to a friend. When passed on, he willed him to another friend. Last we heard, that damn cat was still alive. He has to be like 300yrs old, still torturing people. He bit every owner. So, I tell this story because we hated cats after this little venture. HATED them. We never wanted to get another cat as long as we lived. Well then along came Annie.

Annie was an alley cat found by classmates when I was in high school on our walk home. She was only a couple of weeks old. So tiny, and wreaked of garbage. I brought her home and called my mom to tell her of this tiny kitten I had found. My mom and I are huge animal lovers. There was never an animal I couldn’t keep. So my mom came home and saw this miniscule kitten curled up in my neck. We took her to the vet, got her cleaned up and spent 7mo with this sweet kitten before she was claimed by FIV. Now you are typically given the option to test for this, back then not at all. We were so heart broken that we decided to give adopting another cat a go. Enter Molly.

My mom had found this article about choosing a cat. All the tests seemed ridiculous, like any cat would let you lay them on their back in your arms without clawing the shit out of your face. Well Molly not only let us, but didn’t leave a mark either. She passed all the other tests with flying colors and we adopted her that summer in 1995, she was about 4mo old.

Molly was a talker. We would ask her for updates on what went on in her day. She would bark comments back. My mom has some white leather couches that started showing serious scratching. We of course assumed it was Molly. Though we’d already had her front claws removed, we removed the back ones too thinking she was the couch scratching culprit. We’re now pretty sure it was the dog, and would never declaw another cat after being informed of how awful that is to do to them. It’s an amputation and don’t let anyone tell you any different.

I took her to college with me as soon as I moved out of the dorms in ’97. She endured many college parties, including but limited to my roommate chasing her around screaming at her, poor thing. Then we’d move back home every summer.

She moved with me to Ft.Collins in ’99. She would wait for me to come home, and meow from the door when she heard the key in the lock. Then back with my mom when I was caught with her as I wasn’t supposed to have pets. Lame! She was my TV watching partner. She also loved to cuddle. She was not one of those cats where the petting was on their terms. Hence my exclamation she was not a cat.

She then moved with me again in ’03 and has been with me since. Even my husband, who was not a huge cat lover, fell in love with Molly. He even built her “the kitteh tower” a carpet tower. She LOVED it, and spent a lot of time in it.

She was dubbed the office cat as when you were working on a computer, seated in the office or elsewhere, she would come up to you on the chair, standing on her hind legs and put her front paws on your legs and paw at your arms with her smashy feet as I called them. They looked like camel feet due to the lack of claws to keep a shape to them. She would paw at you until you pet her.

She would often keep vigil over you while you worked, from her post under the table or desk.

When she drank water she’d have some leftover on her chinny chin chin hairs. We called it her water beard.

She would often “sharpen her mitts” by “clawing” the carpet, or my husband’s record collection. If she did that, then she was the DJ Cat.

She went by many names, Miss Molly, Molly McButter, The Mollusk, Molluska, The Kitteh, Molly the Cat, or MTC.

Yesterday, 06/18/2009, I came home to her having been dead for a few hours. We were nowhere near ready to say goodbye to her. She was supposed to last another 4-5yrs we’d decided. I hadn’t taken her to a vet in about a decade as she was an indoor cat and I saw no need to put her through that, so now of course I have no idea as to what was her ultimate demise.

This is our (my husband and me) first time dealing with a pet death on our own, and really nothing prepares you for parting ways with a companion that was a part of almost half your life.

Molly had been through so much with me. Always there, always with an update. Words cannot express how much we loved and will miss her.

She now resides in our garden, still keep vigil over us.