Ode to Suzie

Oh Suzie. Queen of Cats. Queen of the Torties. Gracious and capricious Ruler of the Beanbag.

You are a week dead today. 
Seven long days of tears and remembrances. Of shock at your sudden passing and anger at the senselessness of your death. 

We miss your rudeness, your strange didgerydoo miaowing at the window sills. We miss the way you pretended to bite when we tickled in the wrong place. Your little orange tipped right paw. 

We miss your total belief in your self, your right to be inside all day long, your right to get into the house before any of your human counterparts did.

You lie under the apple trees. In the sunniest spot in the garden, wrapped in a beautiful blue and silver sari with a decorated wooden cross that my husband (you thought you were his dog) made for you. 

You leave behind four desperately sad children and two adults and your tabby friend - Willow. Your love/hate relationship, now disbanded had left him lost, he miaows at the window, he peers in looking to find you. He hurls himself about my legs at the washing line for attention. 
Hard to think it was only last week that you and he were boxing on the window ledge. Sparring with little paws raised and now you lie sleeping under the apple blossom.

Sleep soundly my friend. We will meet again.