Miss Hollywood came into my life in the spring of 1989. She was probably feral, or else she was just abandoned in the hospital apartment neighborhood of East Denver where I was raising my kids. She soon dumped a load of kittens on

us, both a joy and an annoyance, but she was an attentive and loving mother. I almost gave her away to the Denver Dumb Friends League when, one Friday after work, I dropped off her and four of her five kids (I found a home for the one who most resembled her). My reason was because she was so in love with a big gray feral tomcat that she was trying to get pregnant again. I fretted about her all that weekend, and, on Monday morning I called the League and asked them to spay her and I would return for her. It was the best decision I and the League have ever made.



A few days after I retrieved her back from the DDFL, a famous jazz musician visited my home. When he walked in the door she trotted up to greet him, a trait I always admired about her. He declared, "Hey Little Miss Hollywood!" The name stuck which is a good thing as we had just been calling her "Cat" or "Momma Kitty". 



Next to my sons, Miss Hollywood has been the most reliable constant in my chaotic life. She actually helped me raise my sons to manhood. Whenever we moved, which we did a lot, she was always right there with me. In fact, once

we settled into each new abode, she would cover me with kitty love as if she were telling me how much she appreciated that I took her with me. She endured the two-day drive, in a tiny Chevy pick-up, over the Rocky Mountains and across the Mojave Desert to live-out her final six years with me near the ocean. 



She started losing weight a couple of months ago, first having problems with her kidneys and finally hyperthyroidism began consuming her muscle mass. Her hearing went a few weeks ago and I could tell that she was also going blind. After much agonizing about the fact that she just wasn't going to get well, she and I made the decision to let her go.



This was my first-time witnessing the euthanizing of a much loved pet. I held her in my arms and purred with my throat on the back of her neck as she went to sleep. She went over to the other side at 3:30 this afternoon.





When I told her vet that, upon my own demise, I plan on mixing her ashes with mine, she began to weep along with me.



Miss Hollywood...I will be lost without you.