When I came to live at my forever home with Mom (Wendi) and Dad (Bobby), the house was filled with cats. Now as a dog, that might not seem like an ideal location to call home. There has been, and probably always will be, this sort of love/hate relationship dogs have with cats. It’s in our DNA. But honestly, I didn’t mind. I find barking at and chasing cats to be an invigorating part of my life. I love it when they run, it brings out the terrier in me. One of the cats that lives here, Mr. Thomas, is great for playing the chase and bark game. He hears me coming, takes off for higher ground and I give chase. It’s awesome! That’s how things are and then Kirby came to live with us. (Which you can read about here.)
Kirby was the perfect cat for me. Mom had wanted to get a kitten that would play with me like dogs play together. (She didn’t want to get another dog, because really how can you find one as good as me?) Kirby fit the bill. He played rough and tumble with me. He hardly ever ran away — or when he did, I knew he was just having fun. While I think Mr. Thomas might not mind if I stopped playing our chase and bark game, Kirby really enjoyed it. (You can read about how Mom called him Crazy Kitten Kirby here.)
Kirby was a cat who was so full of life. If something was going on anywhere in the house, he had to be there. Dad thought he was in training to be like Buddy (another cat that lives with us). Buddy likes to be up in everyone’s business. Dad calls him the “investigative reporter.” Well, Kirby was like that, too. He had to see what was going on. And if food like chicken or pork was involved, he had no sense of personal space. It would make me so frustrated that Kirby could get right up on Mom’s lap and try to get a morsel of food before I got any!
But now all that is over. Tragically, Kirby passed away suddenly. When we got up on Wednesday morning, he was gone. He was just laying on the kitchen floor by his big box. (Kirby loved boxes.) He looked so peaceful that Mom thought he was sleeping. It was a very hard day for all of us here, especially Mom and Dad.
I think what makes it especially hard is that Kirby had been himself. He didn’t seem sick or anything. I played with him Tuesday, like I always do. And he played back like he always does. He was his usual rambunctious 2 year old self. He even played his game with Mom. He liked to walk on top of her when she was laying down on the bed and then bite her fingers and nose. Mom hated that game, but Kirby didn’t. He’d play it every time he had the chance.
I guess if I think about it, Kirby taught us that you have to live each day to the fullest because you never know when you are living your last. While it is a good lesson to learn, it doesn’t make it any less painful. I’ll miss Kirby. He was my playmate, my friend and my family.
