Cleopatra

My favorite cat died yesterday after 10 wonderful years with me. She was my first cat after I moved out and truly my best feline friend. She always met me at the door when I came home, cuddled with me when I slept, sat on my lap while I worked, and sat in the middle of the floor to swat anyone who dared walk by. She used to plant herself in the middle of the doorway, blocking the 90 lb rottweiler Hoover from getting by. He was a big baby and would sit there barking at her trying to get her to move. She wasn't afraid of anything and would chase visiting dogs around the house.

She was feisty, friendly, playful, and so funny. She was beautiful, and frequently was complimented by my visitors. I named her Cleopatra because the way she sat, with all four feet in the same tiny square of space, reminding me of the statues of Egyptian cats. She had beautiful markings and great big eyes. She had the sweetest white socks on all four paws.

She fetched Double Bubble gum like a dog would a ball. She loved our feather toy, and would sit for half an hour to be brushed. I never could get all the hair, there was always more for her to shed.

My first apartment was only 450 square feet. To get to the only bathroom, you had to walk right past the bed. She used to hide under the bed and attack feet as you walked by. I had so many scratches up and down my arms and across my feet.

At night, she would walk around the house carrying various plush toys and R's little pom-poms, yowling to the world about her prize. She especially loved R's penguin plush slippers, I would frequently find them in my bedroom or in the living room.

I miss her terribly, but I know she feels much better now.