Sport, our feline friend and lap companion of 15 good years, died today. She was an extra small cat with an extra large personality. There have been prettier cats, but Sport was really something special. She was social, enjoyed company and talked with everyone. She never did figure out why the chipmunks didn't want to play.
We're hoping smiles of days past replace the tears soon.
We're hoping smiles of days past replace the tears soon.
Sport picked us out when she was a kitten at the SPCA, posing, purring and parading. It was obvious she wanted to go home with us and not the other dozen or so folks at the SPCA that day. The 1996 Summer Olympics was going on, and after seeing her athletic abilities -- she was in constant motion-- the name Sport seemed to fit. I called her The Sportcat, and she seemed to enjoy the nickname. I could tell. Really.
She never weighed more than 6.5 pounds, probably because of her adventurous spirit, but seemed to know when we were sick. With our noses plugged, our lungs on fire from coughing and feeling like General Custer on a bad day, Sport slowed down long enough to climb on the bed and cuddle. It seemed to work better than all the cold medicine in the world.
Oh, it hurts losing a friend. But it was 15 warm, cuddly and happy hears. Thank you, m'dear.
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