A little more than 22 years ago, a tiny little ball of fur came into our lives.  She was the smallest of a litter of six-toed Hemmingway cats born in our shed, hence the name Squirt.  After the litter was weaned, none of the others stayed around, not even the mama cat, but Squirt did.  She was a wild little thing, and only came around for food during the day but chose to venture out into the wild during the night.  One day she apparently got caught in the warm engine of a car and her front leg was injured pretty badly.  My husband took her to the fire station, where he bandaged her up and put a splint on her leg.  My husband and his crew nursed her back to health, and soon she was as good as new, and back roaming the ‘hood.

Squirt did not like the indoors.  We lured her in to feast, but after she had her fill, she’d wait at the back door and cry for the great outdoors.  She so loved an adventure.  Back in 1992 when we were preparing for Hurricane Andrew, Squirt was nowhere to be found.  We eventually had no choice but to board up the house and hoped for the best.  She apparently found shelter in the shed of her birth, and in the morning she was at the door waiting for breakfast.  She’d already survived a car engine – she certainly wasn’t going to let a little old hurricane get in her way.

Several years ago when Squirt started getting up there in age, I decided she’d had enough of the nightlife and that she needed to be kept indoors.  Squirt could still manage on her own, but was slowing down and I’d worry when she didn’t show up on my doorstep at the crack of dawn.  For days, maybe weeks, she would stand by the back door and meow like a tomcat to get out.  We’d pick her up, soothe her and bring her to another room in the house to distract her.  After a time, she stopped trying to go outside and settled into the life of an indoor cat.

In the last few years, Squirt had been slowing down and her age started showing in little ways.  She also started having seizures, which were controlled for the most part by thyroid medication.  Even after a particularly bad seizure, during which we were afraid she might die, she’d come back with a vengeance and meow for her dinner as if nothing happened.  The medication did help in that she had fewer and less severe seizures.  Still, Squirt kept on trucking.

Every time we thought she was ready to give up, Squirt would surprise us, leap up on the couch and be ready to rumble.  She certainly kept surprising us, especially in the last couple of years as she kept hanging on long past the usual lifespan of a cat.  She had used up her requisite nine lives long ago, and was on her eighteenth, when last night she finally decided it was time to say goodbye.

Squirt was a graceful, proud cat, who gave us over 22 years of unconditional love and joy.  In the end, she chose to die on her own terms, as proudly and gracefully as she lived.

Squirt was such a special part of my heart and my family, and all we have now are the memories of her dear, sweet face.  As painful as it is to lose her, I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything in the world.  She truly was a blessing.

We half jokingly say in our family that “cats are people, too!”  We have lost a very special “person,” but we are much better people for having had the privilege of knowing Squirt all these years.

If you have never had an animal in your life, you are missing out on one of life’s greatest joys.  Please adopt a homeless pet today and give it the gift of love.  You will be rewarded with a gift in return far greater than you can ever imagine.

Stephanie