I've tried to write it a dozen times - in between feeding the kids and sweeping the floor and organizing the freezer, I have tried to write these words to say goodbye. Instead I find myself writing a laundry list of things I'm going to miss about her.
So here it is, in list form, my sendoff for dearly delightful and oh-so-hairy Phoebe:
-She liked to sleep on my bed, and more specifically on top of my head. I called it Phoebe Hat and it made me nuts.
-As a kitten she would stand on my chest while I was sleeping and sneeze directly on my face.
-She never took NO for an answer.
-She had terrible breath.
-She had the softest belly fur: white and downy with bits of her pink skin poking out.
-Long tufts of fur grew out between the pads on her paws. I liked to tug on them until she'd move her paws.
-She followed me into the kitchen every time I walked in there. She was hoping for treats.
-I used to put my cereal bowl on the floor after I was done eating. She would come along and stick her paws in the bowl, licking the milk off her paw fur.
-She played something we called Crunchy Hockey with the dried cat crunchie food. She'd fish a single bit of cat cereal onto the kitchen floor and then bat it across the room - chasing it as fast as she could.
-Her belly fluv swung far and low to the ground.
-She was annoying. She got into everything. She shed on every stitch of nice clothing I had. She had awful hairballs and would vomit on the rugs the minute I washed them.
And I'm going to miss her. We're all going to miss her. Because she was also the sweetest, most long-suffering, best example of unconditional love I've ever known. An angel. Covered in fur.