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I wanted to celebrate my cat, even though my heart is still shattered in little pieces over losing her yesterday.  But both her and her sister deserve special notice, and this is as good as I can do for them.  Pictures of my baby kitty and her sis are at the bottom of the page, courtesy of my sister Lindsey.

Britt was the most wonderful cat I've ever been the servant of (dogs have masters, and cats have staff). I had the great pleasure of knowing her and her sister Josie since I moved back to San Diego in 2000. I would housesit for them for long periods of time over at my dad's house, and they helped me during my recovery from my back injury.

I will never forget the first night I kitty-sat for those two. Of the two, Britt was the leader and Josie would occasionally follow along, as long as it didn't seem too difficult to her. At any rate, the first night I was with those two, I knew I had to get them inside by sundown, as we have a bad coyote problem throughout most of San Diego.

9:00 pm came and went. So did 10, 11, 12. I was starting to pretty well freak out, first night sitting for the cats and they both vanish, that'll make the parents happy.

Then I heard that unmistakable feline moaning that is the prelude to a fight. I turned on the light on the back porch and beheld a sight that I still can't believe to this day.

There sat Britt, Josie slightly in back of her, both just sitting in front of an enormous raccoon. Raccoons aren't to be fucked with, they are big, aggressive carnivores and they will attack cats. This one weighed at least 35 pounds. Britt weighed about 10. Naturally, I panicked and yelled "dammit, get inside!" at my cats and lunged outside to scare the raccoon off.

Britt took one look at me coming outside, decided that she wasn't going anywhere inside and that she had backup, and charged the damn raccoon. I yelled "no!" but Britt, as always, couldn't hear the word "no". Selective deafness on her part.

The raccoon ran, with Britt in hot pursuit. I scooped up Josie, who was just sitting there, threw her in the house, and then ran to get Britt. I got back outside just in time to watch Britt charge all the way across the street, raccoon in full flight in front of her, until the raccoon jumped into the neighbors hedge. I got there just in time to stop Britt from following the coon into the hedge, and scooped her up.

She was purring. She wanted to go after the intruder and kept squirming around in my arms to go after the critter, but I held tight and dragged her inside.

So began our relationship.

Britt at this point was in the prime of life. Eight years old, muscular, and unlike many housecats, a ferocious and skilled hunter - much more like a feral cat in that respect than a pampered housekitty. I've seen her stroll casually across her backyard with a full-grown songbird, flapping for all it was worth, in her mouth. I saw her kill mice, rabbits, birds, hummingbirds (quite a trick), lizards and all the rest of the wild animals that live in my dad's neighborhood.

Her sister, Josie, was...hmmm, let's say she was a lot lazier. If a moth got into the house, she would meow at it. That was really about all she would do, but she loved to cuddle and was the only one of the two that would sleep with me. That later changed, but it took a while. Britt, at the time, spent her nights in the master bedroom, waiting for my dad and stepmom to get back. She would do this for weeks on end. She had no qualms about standing in my doorway and mewing at me to get up and feed her at 6am, though.

They were both great cats, as far apart physically as sisters could be (Britt, grey tabby, VERY physically active - Josie, piebald, lazy as most cats can be) but they both shared one feature - little tufts of fur atop their ears, making them look like little lynxes.

In early 2004, Josie started doing poorly. I cannot recall if it was known that she had a heart condition or not - I think she had a murmur - but she started having shortness of breath and fluid buildup. Heart failure. She died about a month later, put to sleep by our great family vet, Dr. Gerry Soifer.

Britt's personality changed after that. She showed no overt signs of missing her sister (no looking in closets or under the bed or anything) but became very demanding of me and wanted to spend all her time with me or anyone else around her. 

My father and stepmother, who at this point were spending most of their time in North Carolina, decided to put Britt up for adoption. That wouldn't have worked. Twelve-year old cats just don't get adopted, and my parents weren't going to be around to take care of her.

I felt I had no choice in the matter - I'd become too close to this cat to let her die in a shelter - so I took her. Much to everyone's shock, she adjusted to the move pretty quickly.

She was, as I said yesterday, the best companion I have had. As most of my friends discovered pretty quickly, she was a talker - easily the most talkative cat I've ever encountered, and yes, I'm including Burmese in that disclaimer. From waking me up at 4:30 in the morning until curling up in the crook of my arm at night, she would constantly talk to me. 

She charmed every single person who met her with her open affection and talkativeness, even my mailman, and I fell completely in love with this little feline who wanted nothing more than to eat, sit outside and wait for me to come home, and curl up beside me in front of the television every night in my arms. She loved to be held, and unlike most cats, loved to be held close when she'd sleep. If she were really blissed out, she'd sometimes roll over into a purring little ball of fur, sleep and happiness. She cuddled up with me every night at bedtime, including the very last night of her life.

Frankly, I'm still in shock. I find myself tearing up at odd times. I cried on my way in to work today. I had to leave the radio off as right now I can't stand the stupid yammering of people. I cried at work today. I expect to cry some more tonight and for many nights thereafter. I know why this is, of course; I have lost animals before but I have never been so close to one in the past, and this is a completely different situation for me, emotionally. To say that I'm heartbroken would be an understatement. 

She died in my arms, purring to the very end, at Dr. Soifer's office yesterday. It was very fast, thankfully, and without any trauma. I took her home and buried her in my backyard in a small wooden coffin I made for her on Sunday, when I realized that she was not getting any better, but worse - put plainly, when I realized for the first time she was dying. You can see it in their eyes and in their bodies, and how they carry themselves, if you are capable of looking for the right clues.

I promised her a long time ago that I would never leave her, and I didn't. I'm proud of that. I'm proud that I didn't come completely unglued in the vet's office yesterday - I knew I had to be strong and not cry or panic, because that would have panicked and upset Britt at the one time she didn't need to be dealing with such a thing. I'm proud that I gave her three good years, and my only regret is that it wasn't many more. I honestly expected her to live at least a couple of more years, given how strong she was, but it didn't work out that way.

Now my house is empty. The only signs that a cat ever lived there are the copious stains on my white carpet from one of her favorite hobbies, throwing up, some clawed-up furniture, and a little bit of cat fur here and there. My house feels very empty in a way that I haven't experienced in a very long time, and frankly, it sucks. What little sleep I got last night, in spite of the two Benadryl tablets I took (didn't hardly do anything for me save for make me have some very strange, dreamlike thoughts and fall into everything I got close to when I would wake up) was constantly interrupted by noises that were very reminiscent of things my cat might have done, like when the wind would blow the shutters in my master bedroom. Britt used to pull them out of the way to look outside. I expect to not get much sleep for a while.

I am not looking forward to the next few weeks as I try to adjust to her absence. I can't see getting another cat for a long time - one of the things I feel most guilty about concerning Britt is that I had to leave her alone for many hours during the day. I am single, I had to work, and there was nothing to be done about that, but I wish I could have been there for her more. She was a very social kitty and needed to have people around.

This has been wrenching to write, and probably wrenching to read, but I needed to pay a tribute to my friend. I miss her so much. 

She was a good kitty.

Britt as a younger cat.

Britt watching the street at my dad's house.

Closer - Britt on yard patrol, looking for something to kill.

Britt's sister Josie, in her favorite place - collapsed across the back of my stepmom's chair so that no one else could sit there.

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