The Furred One

She's been with me since I was about six years old. Sixteen years it's been now, and she's stuck with me through it all. Maybe she's even more needy than I am. Maybe she isn't so great at conversation. And maybe she doesn't have great control over her bodily functions, but I love her anyway.

I think back over all these years of my life, and I can hardly remember a time before her. It's harder to imagine the future without her, but I know she can't stick around for much longer. It's just the way of her species. The saddest part is probably that now, with me living in Abilene and not allowed to have pets in my house, I only see her a few times every year. She's so excited to see me every time I come to Victoria: curls up on my lap, purring softly. She'll come and sleep with me all night (of course, she also wakes me at about 6:00 AM because it's time for her to be fed).

She's inspired me to pages and pages worth of poetry and song. Here's a good example of something I composed for her in high school:

Oh, Sheba, so purr-y, so soft and so furry,
You lick yourself clean each day.
Oh, Sheba, so grayish, so sweet and so playish,
You've stolen my heart away.

I know most of my friends aren't cat people. They have their reasons. But I always assure them, I have my reasons too. Bathsheba is the one creature in my life who's always been there for me, loving me unconditionally and expecting only my complete adoration in return. There's hardly an important time in my life I can remember without her furry little presence there in the background. When she's gone, I'll weep immoderately. And when she's gone, it's going to feel like the end of something for me: of childhood, of my life in Victoria, of all the people I've been since the age of six...I'm not sure which, if any of these. But life will feel different without her: colder, sadder, lonelier...emptier.