Zoe: A life well lived

Having a pet is truly a blessing. Animals don’t only show love, they embody it. Dogs are the easier domesticated animals to see that trait in, and I have wonderful memories of every dog I ever had. But lately our family has gone in the other direction; that is, we have cats. Cats are easier to keep. They require no fence; they don’t salivate all over you; and when you leave town, they don’t care.

When my entire family went to Indonesia a couple of years ago, the neighbors fed the cats and when my wife and younger daughter came back a month later, sure enough, they not only were there but they didn’t seem to even care that we were back.

But whether you are a dog or a cat person, when a pet dies, it is like losing a member of the family. This is true for one simple reason: They are family.

Just recently our beloved Zoe, a female cat with a distinct personality (I know, you cat lovers out there are thinking: “Every cat has a distinct personality.”) That’s as true as every person being different, I suppose, but Zoe was special. Let me tell you why.

Zoe was the most beautiful cat I have ever seen. She was the Grace Kelly of cats. Her markings were distinct. A grey and brown mix with white stockings, Zoe walked around like she was aware of her classic beauty, not unlike, I suppose, Grace Kelly. Zoe showed off her beauty without trying. The coloring on left front leg ran all the way down to her paw, which was white. She seemed to know that her mix of colors and her snow white leggings were special because she acted special, particularly around Gus, our other cat, who occasionally tried to sneak a kiss from her every now and again, and every now and again she’d whack him so hard he’d run like a scolded dog.

Gus, a yellow male without a mean bone in his body, often ran from Zoe, who, like a female, could sometime get a bit aggravated with her male counterpart. Truth is, Zoe was notoriously fickle. One minute she was on your lap loving you up, and the next second she’d had enough of you. Trying to keep her on your lap when she didn’t want to be there was a mistake of immense proportions.

Actually, the only person who she had a real love affair with was my oldest daughter, Marnie. Every night Zoe would go to bed with her and every night Zoe slept on her pillow, just above Marnie’s head.

During the daylight hours, Zoe was an outside cat and she loved being outdoors. Over time she became a pretty good hunter, but what she was really good at was climbing. In fact, she was the most athletic cat I have ever seen. She was small and light, which was clearly an asset given all the acrobatics she did. She ran up trees, poles, almost anything. And it was not unusual to look out the kitchen window and she her sitting serenely on top of one of our arbors, the smallest of which required climbing a small pole not meant for climbing. Maybe she hopped up there even though it would be a jump of no less than 10 feet.

Gus, who weighed about two and a half times what Zoe weighed, would just look at her climb, seem dumbfounded that she could get up there, then just slowly walk away.

At dusk, Zoe would jump on the back door and we’d let her in. Then one day about three months ago, Zoe didn’t come to the door. We looked for her all over the neighborhood but found no signs of her. Since she rarely left the yard, we just couldn’t understand, and still don’t, what happened to her.

Gus is still with us, and I can tell he misses her. We all do.

Zoe is gone, but she’ll never be forgotten.