Remi, rest in peace little one

I have to put my cat to sleep today.

Remi got sick while I was out in CA and is not getting better. I saw her last night at 1AM at the Emergency Clinic and while she's disoriented and confused she sat, as usual, resting against my arm purring.

With Remi, there is always unconditional love. She loves everyone. If you are near her, if you even look at her, she immediately starts purring. You can hear it from across the room.

And I confess, I was mean to her. Not physically, but emotionally. I called her stupid. (She was not the brightest cat. You know how you crack a door open and the cat pulls it open to get out? She never quite got that, she'd just paw at it and eventually close it completely, locking herself in.) She was really oddly shaped. (She was once described as looking like a batch of spare parts put together: an extra-large body, a small head, and four extra-small paws because they ran out of large ones. It was true, she was funny looking.) I favored other cats over her.

But no matter how many times I kicked her off the couch, or the bed, or the couch again, she would jump back up and start purring. It was hard to resist petting her when she would just stand there. And purr. A little purring machine.

Remi was a stray cat, found around 1994 when she was maybe 4. We don't really know how old she is. I fostered her and when she fell madly in love with Jak, another one of my batch of cats, there was obviously no separating them. With him, it was also unconditional love. She groomed him, he chewed on her. She curled up next to him, he slept on top of her. They could often be seen in the front hallway fighting (her, by this time with no claws and no teeth) and she'd always be the one on the floor--in the submissive position always--letting him takes swipes at her. And purring regardless.

Rest in pease, little Remi. It's been a great time. I will miss your unconditional love. None of the others have it like you did.