I was a Freshman in college when Cleo entered my life. My friend, Nina, had received a tiny calico kitten from a boyfriend, and she didn't want to be reminded of her ex. She invited me over to her dorm room, I opened the door, and fell in love at first sight. I took Cleo in my arms and she stayed there ever since. She moved with me, to three separate Chicago apartments, and then, after a brief stay with a friend, she was flown to New York, where she brought me joy and happiness for 13 years. Last September, when I moved from New York to Minnesota, she sat by my side for the entire drive. She was so beautiful--all pet owners think their pet is beautiful, but Cleo was striking. Her coloring, the markings on her face, her personality--everyone who met her knew that she was special. And the bond I shared with her was unfathomably deep. There are innumerable stories I could relate--how she escaped from my first apartment, and led a stranger from the L train station where she wandered to my front door. How she would jealously attack Mittens, my second cat, and dominate her during the 11 years they shared together. How she comforted me when Mittens died in 2001. How she managed to form a bond with every person who became important to me in my life. Even people who normally disliked cats felt an affectionate bond with Cleo. I will never forget her or how she affected me. Her playful nature--even at 17 she would leap from sofa to chair, chasing a toy or stretching her agile body. She was beautiful, but she was no angel. A spoiled brat with the attitude of a princess, she frustrated me to no end with her finicky eating habits and her sometimes-constant howling, usually in the middle of the night. She would definitely make her displeasure known, especially if I was gone for a long period of time, or if I had travelled out of town and had a friend take care of her. After a few hours she would forgive me and purr with contentment in my lap. She liked to chew people's hair--I don't know if she liked their shampoo, or the texture, but she would sometimes stand on your shoulders and press her face into your scalp. She slept most every night in bed with me, and when I was fortunate enough to share my bed with someone else, she would begrudgingly allow them entrance as well. She would crawl up onto my chest, perch there, and then make her way down to my feet. She also liked to nestle in between my opened legs, curling up into a little ball. She used to love to watch birds from my apartment window, and even though she spent her whole life indoors, her instincts just knew she had to chase that bird. The one time a mouse found its way into my apartment, she was totally confused--staring in wide-eyed amazement. Over the course of our life together I had 4 serious relationships and literally dozens of roommates. We moved almost every year we lived in NYC--Hell's Kitchen, Jersey City, the Upper East Side, E. 28th St., Brooklyn, Bushwick, 198th & Broadway, Woodside--and she eventually made every place she was moved to her own--finding the best spots on the floor to sit in the sun, which window afforded the best view, little nooks and crannies to explore and hide in. She was the sweetest living being, and I was honored to be able to share over 17 years with her. I miss you so much, Cleo. Your discomfort and suffering have ended now, and you are at peace.

"There was never a time when I did not exist, nor you. Nor will there be any future in which we shall cease to be." --Sri Krishna Bhagavad-Gita