Otherwise known as Shula-monster, the small brown shadow:
Bye sweetheart. You had a good long life out here.
I’m sorry that you had to live in the garage–it’s what happens when cats can’t use the cat box in the house though. You were really sweet, just not indoor cat material.
I hope that was okay with you.
I hope it was okay that you lived with us for seventeen years, mostly in the garage. I hope it was okay that you got to sleep on all the old blankets, and that we’d pet you on those rare occasions that we saw you and you didn’t run.
I hope it was okay that the kids dragged you inside sometimes just to cuddle–I hope that wasn’t cruel. You always waited an hour or two before asking to be let back into the garage.
I hope you forgive us for the dogs. They’re assholes to all cats, not just you.
I hope you forgive ZoomBoy for that one time he tried to stick a dog diaper on you so you could come inside. He forgave you for the bite to his thumb.
I hope you knew that we loved you in a distant way–you were the Great Aunt of cats. You didn’t visit often, but you were appreciated when you were here.
I hope it’s okay that ZoomBoy forgot his right from his left and dug your little grave so close to the garage. On the one hand, you’re probably comfy there. On the other hand, the other side was more often in sunlight, and you didn’t get a lot of that.
I hope it’s okay your graveyard is getting a little crowded. We put the Altoids box/fish sarcophagus back with you when we covered you up. At this point the more the merrier, right?
I hope you enjoy Halloween–it’s going to be a riot there. Guard us well, protective spirit, okay? And don’t worry, the dog’s got the backyard. You’ve got the easy job.
I hope it’s okay that I cried a little for you. You were such a delicate, quiet thing, but you did love the occasional show of affection. It’s hard to fault a creature that poops outside and asks for little more than food, fresh water, and occasionally getting her whiskers smoothed back. In a house of fuzzy attention whores, your retiring nature was much appreciated.
I hope you know ZoomBoy and Squish and Chicken and Big T all miss you now. You were never as invisible as you tried to be.
And I really hope your spirit can give the useless furry meat sacks around here some anti-vermin lessons. I have the feeling you were carrying a whole lot of that burden on your own. These floofy assclowns just don’t seem that bright, I swear to Goddess they don’t.
Mostly I hope your life was content here. Not every cat is made to be box-trained, but I hope being queen of the garage made up for that. I know even though it’s filled with teetering columns of crap, the garage us a lot emptier without your skittish little presence. Thanks for hanging with us. I hope you know you were loved.
Sincerely, Amy Lane and company–
Also known as the wonderful bringers of food and the terrible distributors of small-dog retribution.
May you get to sleep in all the sunspots now.