Sally

Sally was my first cat.  We adopted her when I was about two years old, along with her brother, Eddie.  Sally was a gorgeous black and white tuxedo cat, with gigantic kiwi colored eyes and the most adorable nose, black on the top and pink on the bottom.  My mom always talked about how Sally was a traitor, because she was originally very attached to my mom, but she quickly became my cat.  She never was very friendly towards strangers and she wasn't always the sweetest cat.  She would often wake up out of a sound sleep to hiss at and slap my sister's cat, Francois.  I remember dressing her up in jewelry and taking hundreds of pictures of her.  She would always sleep with me at night, and I would always wake up with her sleeping on my head, like a furry hat.  Many times, I would walk into the kitchen to find her laying on the cat's food table with her head resting on her waterbowl, the sides of her face all wet.  When no one would let her in my room, she would meow outside of my door until her meows became little more than a whisper.  She was always there for me when I needed for someone to listen to me, and just looking at me would make her purr.  Sally was a total princess, and you could tell that she knew it.  She loved having her tummy rubbed, and it was a fabulous tummy to rub.   It always makes me sad that none of my cats now, except Eddie, won't let me rub their tummies.  About a month or two before I entered my freshmen year of high school, she began to lose weight.  She was always a rather large cat, not just her tummy, but her whole body, and at one point, she weighed as much as eighteen pounds.  Weight loss was really odd for her, because she always ate with great gusto.  Before the end, she dropped down to less than half of her weight and tended to stay away from everyone, including me.  We took her to the vet, and he ran tests on her, but he couldn't figure out what the problem was.  I used to hope that she would regain her appetite and get better and become the Sally that I knew and loved, but she progressively got worse.  I remember on the day she died, I found her under my mom's bed, meowing horribly, and almost totally paralyzed.  She could only move her head.  I picked her up to pet her and talk to her, and minutes later, she died in my arms.  After almost three years, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss her like hell and wish that she was still here with me.
sensibleheart sensibleheart
18-21, F
1 Response Jul 16, 2010

how sad :( that story made me cry for a sec. lol i'm sorry to hear that. i miss my kitty too. he's still alive but i don't live with him anymore. we used to lay in bed and spoon. Thats how i fell asleep everynight. i cant imagine loosing him for good. breaks my heart