passed away yesterday. She was an old girl. 14 years old (maybe 15 we're still discussing when she was actually born) and quite possibly the best cat anyone could have asked for. Her passing is hard for me because it makes me think of my mom. She always reminds me of the many chat sessions we'd have and she'd tell me that Chooni was her lap and then she'd jump on the keyboard. Omma always said Chooni knew when she was talking to me. She was my mom's lap cat. My brother's girlfriend. My sister's roommate. A constant companion to each of us. Boozie. Snoozie. Chooni baby. We each had our nicknames for her. I just didn't think she's go this early. A little selfish of me to hope that we'd get a few more years with her.
Last night, I layed down with Max and cuddled with him as he fell asleep. Thinking about Chooni and remembering when she was a kitten how she'd come into my room at night and slink across the room and with her kitty stelth-ness she jump into my bed and inch her way across to me. As a young kitty, she liked to sleep nestled by my head and some how later in the night I'd wake up up to her sleeping next to me a bundle of purring softness. Even the last time I saw her, I had Maxmilien in tow. He was an exploring 9 month old often mesmerized by chooni. He'd coo at her and she'd keep her distance observing this little human who she did not recognize. Only at night when Max was sleeping would she come to sleep with me. She'd smell Max and come and find her spot on the other side of Max. Finally the last night we spent at my sister's apt did she come and cuddle next to Max. It was her way of saying to me that she'd accept this little human.
I am feeling melancholy today. I will miss her. But I feel a bit of comfort knowing that Omma has her lap cat again.