Mrs. A,
I am EXTREMELY sorry for your loss. I'm a cat guy. I'm also a "softie".
I grew up on a farm and our cats were always indoor-outdoor cats. I got my first cat at about 4 years old. When it was bedtime, I would tell her it was bedtime and she would walk down the hall with me to my room and come lay in bed with me. She slept with me every night. I made a "P" shape with my legs and she slept right in the bowl. If I wasn't asleep, she would get up to get off the bed. If she felt me move, she would lay back down, snuggling in with me until I fell asleep. When I was asleep, she would jump off my bed and go to the door to go outside. She would go hunt all night. She disappeared when I was 15. We are assuming coyotes, since we have such an abundant population and they tend to come in the yard in the winter when things get desperate. A few months went by of me calling for her outside when the reality set in that she was gone.
Right before school started my Freshman year, my parents decided I needed a new companion. We went out to a friend of the family's farm that had just had kittens. I had a choice of a few different kittens, but none of them clicked with me. Then I saw the one I wanted. She was a little gray and white tabby. I took her home that night and she was my best friend for years. She had that "jerk" kind of personality that only cat people enjoy.
She passed away just a few years ago. She was 16. I had been in contact with my Mom every day for a few days before they had to put her down. She had been dying for about a week. After the last call from my Mom, I burst into tears. I was at home with my boy who was 5 at the time. He had never seen me cry like that before. He was a little scared, but when I told him that Rita had passed away, he started crying too. I cried harder when my cat died than either my Great Grandma or Grandpa. I cried harder than when a friend who was two years younger than me died of a prescription drug conflict. I am doing everything in my power not to cry as I am typing this.
My Mom and Dad still have a cat that was her "daughter." She has had an eye removed from an infection a few years ago, but she is still chugging along. She will be 18 in a few months (that's 89 in cat years.). Even being a one-eye'd crippled up old bag of bones, she still occasionally brings mice, moles, sparrows, rabbit, and even full grown pheasant as "presents" to my Mom and Dad.
Love them while they are in your lives. Special pets bring a joy that cannot be replaced. Remember the good times and cherish the little time you had with Boots. Remember that with rescue animals, the time they spent with you was most likely the best time of their lives, too.
