I had no idea that today was Pet Remembrance Day until I checked out Kitty’s blog, Kitty Here or There, Anywhere. Although I’ve not had a plethora of pets, due to allergies when I was young and living in an apartment that didn’t allow animals for many years, I’ve enjoyed several wonderful feathery, scaly and furry companions since I’ve been married to my husband. Our first pet was a lovely parakeet named Ollie, then some beautiful anoles named, Lucy, Bill and Ted. Our first furry friend was Pixie. A gorgeous tuxedo cat that I rescued from a horrible pet shop that was going out of business.
Pixie was in terrible health when we first brought her into our home, but with lots of vet visits, love, and affection she soon regained her vigor and became our first furry daughter. However, instead of a subservient daughter, she felt that she was ruler of the household. Pity to the fool who tried to move her from their seat or bedside.
Apart from her normal feline training, she excelled at many hobbies. She carved artistic etchings on all of our door trim and created enormous hairball sculptures perfectly placed for stepping on the middle of the night. Her athletic abilities included human tripping and seat racing; it was impossible to beat her to your chair! She was a champion eater and managed to grow quite plump on weight management cat chow. Her inability to be picked up and moved by humans earned her the coveted Scratch and Hiss Award ten years in a row. Though she was a bit slow on the stalk, her ability to chatter at birds outside of the window was unsurpassed, and she never met a moth she didn’t eat.
In spite of her natural cantankerousness, she had some sweet, sleepy moments each day when she’d climb aboard my lap for a cozy catnap. In those moments as I’d drowsily drift off with her warm purring figure on mine, she was just the kitty I’d always dreamed of having.
This past October, Pixie lost a hard fight with inflammatory cancer. Throughout her illness, she still maintained her feisty nature and funny personality. Her pictures grace our walls and her silly antics are forever etched in our minds like the scratches on our door trim. My lap is cold and empty without her, but my heart is warm with her memory.