For those who knew and loved Moffi: she passed away late Tuesday night. She lost her mobility about a month ago and has been set up in our extra room. Her passing was quick. I petted and sang to her until she was just gone.
She remained the most affectionate and loving cat her whole life. She was not naturally a killer. Many times she caught butterflies and small birds only to bring them for me to see and then release them unharmed.
The exception was when we moved into a house infested by rats. She piled them up, proving to everyone that she didn’t kill because of choice, not because she couldn’t.
She has friends in several states and when she did finally have to be confined, neighbors often asked how she was doing. She was a special kind of friend—Moffi was the definition of unremitting, unconditional love. If we were all more like Moffi, the world would be a much gentler place.
Mr. Smith made her a special garden place to rest and planted a pink rosebush to remember her by. There’s so much I wish I could say about this cat who was so much more than just a cat. She loved fiercely and faithfully. To be loved like that is humbling.
Born in my closet, I was the first person to touch her and the last person. There are so many words built up that I want to express but they spill out of my eyes rather than my mouth. I don’t cry because I miss her. In the end she wasn’t herself so the farewell was slow and in stages. I cry because I’ve lost something wonderful—her light has traveled on without me and I wonder if I will ever catch up.