The photo on the left was taken this morning and is the first I captured in 2015. It's more somber than I'd like to remember her as, but I'm so happy that my first picture of the year is Puss. Today, I watched as my companion of nearly seventeen years drifted to a new beginning. Although I am deeply saddened by the loss, I want to celebrate the moments I shared with her, and focus on how meaningful Puss has been in my life.
In March of 1998, my mom brought me and my brother to the MSPCA in Methuen, Mass. to pick out two kittens. He chose a light gray tabby cat, while I was drawn to a tiny white one on the other side of the room. I was told to re-pick. Apparently, the MSPCA strongly recommends adopting kittens from the same litter, though I don't remember why. However, I'm so happy they do.
I'll never forget that sweet little face looking up at me behind the silver bars; those big eyes surrounded by gray were so adorable. I played with her on a bench and remember her waddling around, having a difficult time staying still. Mom told me to name her. This was a difficult decision for me. My mind ran through a few, but none seemed to fit. Mom and DD were growing impatient, so at three-years-old, I named my cat: Rainbow.
Rainbow's brother disappeared a few years later, and our little kitten, Binky, didn't last long either. She- on the other hand- was with me through two moves, and when we finally settled in Sugar Hill, the name "Puss" began to stick.
I don't have any memories before the day I adopted her. She came to me right before I started pre-school and left after I finished college, so this cat is the epitome of my childhood. She was my favorite subject to photograph, and the majority of the pictures on my phone are of her. She had a fabulous life, and to honor her, I have included my favorite pictures of Puss...