We live and we die, we know not why / but I'll be with you when the deal goes down

The hardest part about being here is not being able to run home whenever something's going on. My kitty, Mouse, probably won't last through the day. She's been fighting and holding on all week, but has barely eaten a thing. It's suspected that her kidneys are failing...

I wish digital cameras were around when I first got her, so maybe I could have some pictures of our early years together. Mouse the Cat is a New Year's kitten, born January 1, 1990 (or maybe 1991). There aren't very many winter kittens, but I lucked out and found her after begging my dad to stop at the pet store in early March of that year. There she was, this gray skinny little thing, and I snatched her up and took her shivering body home underneath my jacket.

We moved to Mendota Heights in October, 1991, and she spent the first week cowering behind the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. Slowly, she began to explore, and now that house is home for her. She has "her" spots -- the wool blanket on the back of the living room couch, or the comforter placed on the desk in my dad's office -- that are covered in her gray cat fur now. Of course, if you're ever on the computer, she's got to be up on your lap and in your way! And, when I sat studying or reading or doing sudoku puzzles at the dining room table, I had to pull a chair up right next to me so she could hang out too. She was always happy enough even to have a chair pulled up next to you if she couldn't sit on your lap.

She's a good kitty. Occasionally she tests you by trying to get up on the kitchen counter when you're ignoring her and she wants some attention, but, for the most part, she's a pretty great cat. With every tear I ever shed, she'd be right there in my lap trying to comfort me. With every tantrum of frustration for homework or boys or whatever, she'd calmly wander into see what the fuss was about, then rub up against me to say, "Hey man, not worth it. Calm down!" She's always been my "sister."

I left for college and didn't see her every day anymore, yet every time I walked through that door, she was waiting to hang out. I used to stop by my parents' house and steal lunch often, and I'd almost always give her a few treats before I left just to ensure her affection was still mine. And it was.

Even as she's gotten older, she still has that playful kitten in her. Before I left for grad school in August, you could still get her to roll around in catnip and chase toy mice. She'd go through her crazy periods where she'd spazz out and run around the house, sliding on the wood floor and sometimes running into a wall.

I make fun of her meow, because she sounds like a little whiny lambkin -- so high pitched and piercing! This is how she woke my parents up every morning at 5 a.m., begging for food and attention.

But, all living things get old. Her coat has started to look worn over the past few years. She's been eating more, yet losing weight. It's thought that she doesn't hear so well anymore. She stopped going outside often, except maybe just to hang out in the yard. I can't remember the last time she brought a baby bunny or bird into the house to play with. Most of the time these days, she's content just sitting on your lap when you're watching TV, or sitting next to you on the couch.

But, she's a good spirit. She's serene and content. She always has been a good animal to have close by because she knows when you need her comfort, and she's always ready to give it. She's loyal and sweet; well-behaved and good-natured. She's a good, good cat. She's family.

And, I call to check up on her multiple times a day. She's a fighter. She knows how much she's loved, and she's just hanging around and enjoying her family as best she can. And she's not being left alone, even for a second. I wish I could be there to offer a few last pets. Just last Sunday, I left to catch my plane home from Thanksgiving break and she was fine and normal. But, overnight, something happened, and she started getting really sick. I'm really glad to have gotten to see her, but I hate that I had to leave. That cat has been there through a good 2/3 of my life.

All I want is for her to not feel any pain as she slips away. I know she knows how much she is loved. I'll miss her sweet spirit whenever I'm home. I think home will be lonely without her.