This past weekend we lost the family cat. His name was Morgan J, but you only knew him as “Kitty”.
As I’ve scrolled though our pics of Morgan and you, you have repeated, “kitty, Kitty. Mmmhmm. ::kiss::” It breaks my heart.
He was the sweetest of boys, and as it is fresh in my mind, he was 17 years old and passed away on the 17th of the month. This used to be my lucky number… but now I just think it’s a number of significance. You, my dear girl, were born on the 17th of the month- in case you forgot that!
Below are some of my favorite picture of Morgan… but here are some things I want you to know about him: he didn’t like Carter when he first came home… but one day he snuggled in and it was brotherly love ever since. He was the same way with you- Morgan was unsure about you at first, but as you got older- he would venture near you and always let you pull his tail and give him pats. He showed you nothing but love, and in the 6 years he was in my life, he changed my acceptance of cats to love.
I hope you have some memory, somewhere inside you of the Burmese kitten who would yowl all night, poop on the Christmas tree skirt and force himself into a snuggle whether you liked it or not.
Close your eyes and try to remember… love,