Goodbye, Dutchess

I've never considered myself a "cat person", despite sharing my home with three of them. I obviously don't dislike cats, but I don't go ga-ga at every photo of a kitten, either. Over the years, though, they've grown on me, and our youngest cat, Lucy, is definitely mine-- she claimed me years ago. But that's another story for another day...

Dutchess was the cat that we inherited seven years ago when DH's father passed away. DH had actually brought Dutch home from the animal shelter as a gift for his dad. His dad loved that cat to pieces... she was spoiled rotten, and used to having everything her way.

DH likes to tell people that Dutchess and I fought over who was queen in the house when she first moved in with us. Call me crazy, but I'd make her do things like stay off of the kitchen counters... I couldn't stand the idea of cat hair in our food. (And our other two cats knew, and obeyed, that rule.) Over the years, she'd constantly annoy me by jumping on things (or people) that she shouldn't be on, and I'd repeatedly nudge her off of things (or people). It was pretty much a game with us- she'd test me by jumping up on something and then staring at me, and I'd nudge her down and then stand guard for a minute or two... and I'm pretty sure she just went right back to where she was whenever I left the room.

In the last month, Dutch had gotten sick... she'd become lethargic and lost weight. Over the last week, she had stopped eating all together. A couple of trips to the vet did not produce any good news- there was nothing they could do for her. She was 14, which is apparently pretty old in cat years, even for a house cat. So, while I'm glad she's not suffering any more, I'm still really going to miss that annoying black cat.