So this year, we saw the loss of two Furry Misfits members: Bijou and Princess.

Bijou was a happy pup- she was satisfied as long as you gave her pets and kisses. Princess, on the other hand, was a real princess. She was my father’s cat; I honestly think she died when he did. The only reason she stayed was because we got Bob (another story entirely). The reality is, it sucks to say goodbye to a pet, no matter how expected or unexpected it is. How are you expected to deal with the (for most) unexpected emotion that goes with it?

Now I understand that not everyone feels the same way about pets (hello anyone who has met my mother), but the reality is that we spend more time with our pets than most people. Think about it: who is there when you most need them? In my case, it’s a needy fucking cat who just wants to be my eternal coworker. I have a Baby Dane who loves nuzzles, a Shih Tzu who thinks he’s God, and a cat who thinks he’s a dog. It’s a weird household. Oh, and I have a a dog who actually realizes he’s a dog. Thank God for Spike.

But how could I want anything other than what it is? It made me, just as I made it. Princess lived life on her own terms, as did Bijou. God knows, we do NOT lack for independent women in our family. A family friend summed it up: “Even the cat is thin and walks with its nose in the air!”.

Well, yeah. Have you met my mother?

The truth is, Princess lived to a old age of 18 years old. When you put together her size and nature, that in itself is a miracle. She was a tiny cat, yet I feel she ruled the neighborhood with an iron paw. I wonder who will fill that void now.

I miss both of my girls, thought I know they are waiting for me on the Rainbow Bridge. I miss them, I cry for them, and I will always remember them.