My sweet kitty died last night in her sleep.   She was 16.  I wish you all have a pet someday as good as my Principessa.  I have had many, but none quite like her.  She had been with me since my second year in the AF and for the best years of my life (so far).  I feel like a chapter in my life has closed with her death.

 

I know some of you must think I am crazy to have invested so much emotion in a cat, but she was special.

 

She met me at the door whenever I came home, recognizing my car sound or walk before I even came in.  She always wanted up to bump heads as a greeting and purred ferociously loud.  At night, she slept on my pillow, sometimes "kissing" me goodnight by licking my eyelids or my hair.  In the morning, she would pat my cheek with her paw about a minute before the alarm woke me.  When I was reluctant to get up, she gave me a love bite (never breaking the skin).  She constantly made eye contact with me, trying to communicate, and followed me around, sitting on my feet when I stopped.

 

Principessa flew across the ocean with and for me six times.  She walked on a leash in Naples, learning not to walk under cars, walk on my side of poles, not to go into dark places, and responded to my direction.  She was unafraid of the neighborhood children in Panama City and would let them "walk" her by holding the tip of her tail.  When driving down to down to Charleston, I would stop and let her out to walk.  She always chose to go towards crowds of people.  They could not believe a cat was so unafraid of groups and so willing to sit and be petted by strangers.  

 

She was a hunter.  In Italy, my neighbors were thrilled at how she kept the mouse population in control and perserved their vineyards.  She would try to sneak these mice into the house (the marble floor made for good mouse hockey) by sitting on them and they crying to be let in the house.  Her mouth would not sound full and I would not see a mouse, so I would open the door, she would reach down, pulling the mouse out from under her before I knew what was happening.  Then there would be the requisite yelling and running around.  Principessa trying to get the mouse and me trying to get both out of the house.

 

And she was a survivor.  In Florida, she was hit by a car and gone for two weeks before showing up again with nothing more than a deep bruise.  After being left with a friend while I deployed to Sarajevo for six months, she "escaped" and made her way back to our house in Italy.  In about two weeks, she crossed five miles, two major highways, and numerous hills to arrive back at our home looking for me.   She survived on my neighbor's pasta until I returned home, losing half her body weight.  More recently, she survived being locked out on the balcony for four days while I was out of town (obviously accidentally left out there).  When I got home, she didn't go to the food bowl or water, but immediately came to me asking to be picked up and reassured that I did indeed love her.  In May, she was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. I was told to put her to sleep immediately, but I could not (considering she was chasing birds that morning).  She lasted three more, pain-free months before passing away on her own.

 

Principessa had a great personality and an unusual connection with humans.  I only hope that you all get a chance to have a pet equally as cool and loving.