A Sad Goodbye to Cappy

Just after we arrived home, our sweet Cappadocia kitty Cappy was so excited to see us. Extra love, extra meows. She just wouldn't stop. It was as if she had something important to tell us. She begged to go out and ran right out and caught us a mouse and brought it to us. I snapped this picture of her at the window, so proud of her hunting skills. She finally stored her mouse away, so we would let her back inside. Then she evidently decided to run across to the field to catch another, but was hit by a car, in front of both Miss Middler and Twinkle. It was awful, just one hour after we came home. We live on a main street and don't have AC in our house, so windows stay open this time of year and our cats have always gone outside for part of the day. I suppose this was inevitable, but this was a devastating loss to all of us, as our sweet little kitty came at a time when we all needed a big dose of joy. She was by far the sweetest cat we've ever owned. She came to us pregnant, unbeknownst to us, and allowed my children to see the birth of an animal. It's actually been about a month since this happened, but every single morning when I curl up on the couch with my coffee, Bible, and computer, I miss my little friend still. I recently read a poem that a friend sent about grieving the loss of our little furry friends. It said that they live their short lives with intensity, and to not be sad, as we gave them all that love and care for the time they had here. And I think that summed up Cappy. She was so needy, sick, unhealthy, needing shots, and pregnant when she "adopted" us, which is basically how it happened. She targeted my kids for love every time we would pass her on the cobblestone street. She knew she needed a houseful of kids to love her as her babies came into the world. And she knew I needed her as a lovely distraction, as only a pregnant cat can be, to a mom about to let my first bird fly from the nest. The sadness has lingered, but all I can say is that we are so happy to have had this memory of her in our family.