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| Name: |
Chica
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Age: |
Deceased, fifteen years, seven months old
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| Gender: |
Female
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Kind: |
Manx
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| Home: |
Michigan, USA
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Chica was adopted by my wife when she was four months old. Ever since she has been my wife's constant companion. I joined the family a few years later, and Chica is the first cat I've owned. She's every bit my best bud too, and I've learned a lot about cats and how to take care of them through her.
My wife said Chica's siblings were literally climbing up the walls of the kennel, while Chica sat quietly waiting for someone to adopt her. Chica has always been a gentle cat, curious, and on the lookout for a lap to sit on. She has the softest fur, though it's thinner now, and likes to talk to us when she wants a treat (only the finest Blue Buffalo treats will do!).
When she was younger, Chica loved to play with things we threw away- we called her the Garbage Cat and gave her paper bags and old scraps of cloth to play with. We bought her plenty of toys, but she never liked them much. Her favorite toys were scraps of felt fabric my wife braided into a long rope. She loved swatting and chasing after those ropes and then plopping down on an old cardboard box, exhausted.
As she's gotten older, Chica doesn't play as much, but went professional in her career as a lap sitter. We now call her the Tumor Cat because she glues to one of us when we get home from work. At night, she sleeps on the bed with us, perching on top of my wife like a mountaineer on the tallest highland peak. When we're at work, she has a heated cat bed we turn on for her, which we nicknamed "The Crockpot." Other than our laps, it's her favorite place to be.
A cat's world, while shared with ours, is mysterious and full of interpretation, so my wife and I lightheartedly joke about fantasy worlds Chica lives in, where she pilots her dirigible "The Hinden-Chica" silently through the night; smuggles arms across international lines through her defense company ChicaCorp; or patrols our patio as an untamed African jungle cat. These silly jokes are as absurd as they are opposite Chica's personality, but I like to think she enjoys them too.
Chica went to the Rainbow Bridge yesterday. I keep catching glimpses of her in the shadows, gone when I turn to look. She has left a hole in our hearts and will always be our Cat of the Day, every day. From now on I'll be on the lookout for a dark dirigible, gliding silently through the night, a sentinel for a world that needs more love like Chica's.
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