I had to say goodbye to a good friend today. I had to put my cat down today.
Sochi found me in 1997. Those of you who are cat people know that you don't find them---they find you. Sochi found me in a muddy, oily hole-in-the-wall segment of a parking lot (literally; he'd crawled into a loosened area of brick to hide.) He'd been dumped---to this day, I can't imagine that. For the 12 years I was privileged to know him, Sochi was the best example of a cat. He was faithful and fearless and a good friend and companion (and, until I met my husband, he was my most stable male relationship.)
He had such personality, I can't begin to describe it. He might have had some Siamese in him (I certainly couldn't tell it from looking; he was a tuxedo cat through and through) but he sure was vocal enough to make me wonder. There was one meow for "it's time to get up and feed me" and another for "it's time to go to bed" and several thousand others for all the conversations he had in the course of a day. For the longest time, it was just he and I and his talking made me feel much less alone.
I let him go today because he was old and sick and his kidneys had finally, finally shut down. He was a good friend and among the best of cats, and I owed him a graceful exit (and so much more.)
Sochi, my friend, rest in peace. Go play with Tasha and Tess and Shadow and Ginger and Gypsy and Schatze and Klein and all the other animals we've loved and lost. They've been waiting for you. I'll miss you.
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