October 25, 2002

Amber died today.
She was happy, at least a little, before she died.
I'll miss her.

I'll miss seeing her
at the front door whenever we came home
or right before we left.

I'll miss
hearing her purr
sitting on the futon
petting her head
making her fur frown.

telling her to stop shedding
telling her not to lick things
telling her not to sit on the keyboard
(she never obeyed, of course)

asking her if my head is too big.

She always seemed curious
or sleepy.
She followed us around the house.
She stared.

I'll miss
her big, slow-blinking eyes.
picking her up
carrying her
making her pills

letting her explore the garage.
letting her wander outside.

giving her catnip
feeding her

playing with her string.
her one chipped fang.
the way she buried things, or didn't.

just watching her be a cat.

I'm glad I got to say
"good-bye" and "I love you"
before she left.

I'm glad she had a good day
before she went away.

Amber died today.

I miss her.