It is not like I see her all that often. It is not like she is a daily part of my life.

But, I cannot stop the flow of tears. She has brought such a quality to our lives, and she nursed my mother with affection up until the end.

Dad called me on Friday, to tell me that Friskey isn't doing so hot. She misses her litter box, and cries incessantly...sometimes it seems like her front paws do not quite work. He said he didn't feel like the decision was his to make because she is my cat, my ninth birthday present. At the time, I advised that maybe he should take her to the vet, perhaps there existed a treatable ailment...and if not, well we would know what had to be done.

I went to see her yesterday. I crawled back to the corner where she rested and talked to her. She wobbled the foot it took her to get from beneath the wingback chair to my petting hand. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let me love her, forcing a faint purr out of an old throat. She does not clean herself anymore, and she does not move far before she lies down and dozes off again. Only then did I grow emotional, understand the full choice ahead of me. This animal so dear to my heart, so full of love still, and I had to make the call whether or not she should be put down. So much like my mother, her body is breaking down while her spirit thrives.

I got home and watched Sophie run around, almost like a rubber ball, bouncing from couch to chair, against the wall, to couch...and I sobbed. Such a contrast to the listless animal I had just caressed. I don't know if Nick really gets the tears...I know that I don't. I am an adult, and have taken a lot harder hits in the last few years than an elderly cat...truth is, I do not have a vivid memory of my life when Friskey wasn't there. She was always a constant, a lap cat who loved her family, allowed a little girl to wrap her in blankets and push her around in strollers, and smothered us in purrs when someone was crying. I found myself losing my bravado as I asked to Dad or Nick, or whoever could answer, "Will it hurt?"