She never grasped how to do the laundry, but she sure liked to get in the thick of it. She loved any soft, comfy spot.
From the first moment she came into our lives, Ms. Josie was a prima donna. Why jump up when she could be lifted? Why eat dry food when the canned is so much more tasty? Why be quiet when her meow was so pleasing to the ears?
Really, she could be more demanding than some people I know. And I know a lot of people.
She was Christopher's cat, his little girl. Given any lap that happened to be at home, she wanted to be on his. So I am sure it was hard on both him and her when he moved out and she stayed behind. See, part of the reason we took her in was because Benld wasn't coping all that well on his own, so Christopher elected not to separate "the boys," as I call them. I think I am at least as grateful as Benld and Josie for that decision.
So today was her final day with me. Dr. Judy and I agreed that, given the events of the last few days, Josie was showing signs that the bad was outweighing the good. Her quality of life was diminishing quickly, and it was time to say goodbye.
I may never be able to explain the way our animals seem to master unconditional love so much better than we humans are able to do it. Up until two nights ago, every time I was home, all she wanted was to curl up in someone's lap - anyone's lap, really - and soak up some love. It didn't matter whether I was particularly charming or cranky or if I shaved my legs or swore or burned the roast or made bad choices or sang off key. No, to this petite princess, all that mattered was food, water and love.
But mostly love.
I'll miss you, Josie Lou. Thank you for the years you gave us.