Almost two weeks ago, my beautiful cat Silver passed away. My family and I adopted her in April 1998, and I named her Silver after Michelle Kwan's silver medal at the 1998 Winter Olympics. Over the last year or so, she had not been feeling her best. My parents tried to help her get better, but she was just too sick.
Since my mom told me the news, I've been thinking about her and remembering all the little things that made her special. I keep remembering how tiny and cute she was as a kitten when she would "do the dinosaur" and chase after any ball we would throw around. When she was a little older, Paul and I would feed her Chicken Express off the breakfast room table. Her hair stuck to everything; all of my clothes had Silver hairs, and certain chairs would always be covered. She loved to climb in suitcases while we were packing but would always hide when we tried to put her outside.
Silver was a loving cat most of the time; she loved to sit in my Dad's lap and spent many nights curled up on my bed. She also was a spitfire at times, as Parker and the unfortunate Buddy discovered. As she grew older, her quiet moments became more frequent, but she still had spunk. During some of the hardest times in my life, she was always there to give me unconditional love.
In some ways, losing Silver really hasn't hit me yet. I haven't been home in almost a year, and when I was last there, she was still doing fine. Even with my Sammy cat here and Parker at home, I know that Thanksgiving will be a little different this year.
Silver was a special cat. After all, she was my figure skating cat. :)
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