On December 19th 1990, my parents took me to the Anderson Animal Shelter to  pick out a cat that was my Christmas present.  Due to the holiday there was a week hold on all adoptions and when I returned I could not remember which of two cats was the one I had chosen.

I never mattered.

I do not say this to be sentimental of cloying but in Cally I had the perfect cat.  She was everything I wanted her to be and more. She killed mice wasps and anything small that dared enter her domain.  She cowed animals 10 times her size and maintained iron rule over the other pets in the house.  When she played she did so with such enthusiasm that you didn't want her to ever stop.  She was always seeking attention but was never irritated id rebuffed.  

She had been with me for more than the majority of my life.    And I suppose I never truly wanted to accept that she would ever go.  She was a staple in the family other cats and dogs had come and gone but there was always Cally.  And now it seems unfair that there isn't always going to be Cally.  

Who is going to lay on my back when I watch tv at 2 am?

Who is going to keep the puppy and kitten in line?

Who is going to chase a laser pointer for three hours straight?

Trivial as these matter seem They seem massive now that there is no one to take care of them.  

Who is going to lick my head to try and clean my hair?

The truth is it doesnt matter who, all that matters is that it's not going to be Cally anymore.