This is Buttons.  She came to me in the spring of 1995, as I was finishing my senior year at ISU.  My dad called me and asked me to come to his office and pick up a kitten that he had acquired from a co-worker.  I went into Dad’s office, and he wasn’t in his his office.  And the cat wasn’t in her box as he instructed me would be the case.  She was hiding in a book case in the hall, and I nervously scooped her up, afraid the other professionals in the office wouldn’t appreciate a kitten running around the office.  Back in the box she went for the ride home, except she escaped her box en route to the house and finished the ride home on my lap, where she was content to stay purring. 

Buttons died last week after a summer rife with diabetes, kidney failure, and other things that come along feline age.  She’s been my companion for 13 years.  I’ve never lived in my house without her presence.  I miss her waiting for me outside the shower, and the soft “thump” of her jumping up on the bed after the lights are out.  I miss that soft fur right behind her ears, and the way she would randomly race out of the room.  I’ve also never cried so hard as I did in the process of making the decision and in taking her to the vet.

My dad says that he wishes God didn’t make our pets’ lives so much shorter than ours, that we would grieve so hard for our furry friends who are full of unconditional love and so free of complications.  I miss her so much.