Goodbye Kitty

 Our cat, Kitty, died last Thursday.

Kitty has been a huge part of our lives since we first met her back in June of 2011, when we were living in China.  At the time I wrote about it here.

Kitty was a smart cat who could open doors by jumping up and pulling on the door handle.  She also loved getting up into high places.  She'd jump higher and further than our other cats, then look down on them comfortably smug.

Very quickly Kitty became part of the family, and when we moved to New Zealand in November of 2014 she came with us too.  Her trip took six months, as she had to social distance in managed isolation, first in Hong Kong and then in New Zealand.  She shared her quarantine hotel with Maggie, our other cat from China, and in that time they got extremely close; they'd often sleep on beds together, wrapped up tight around each other.

Kitty enjoyed her life here in New Zealand.  She'd climb onto the roof of our two-storied house and sleep in the sun, then meow at the top-floor window by my desk asking to be let in.  She figured out how to unlatch a window, and sometimes let herself out at night until we put in a more secure latch.  She was the only one of our three cats who learnt how to use our smart microchip-activated cat-flap.

We first realised something was wrong with Kitty in January, when we noticed her breathing much faster.  X-rays at the vet showed that she had cancer in her lungs, and there was nothing we could do.

As the cancer took over, Kitty climbed less and less, tiring quickly and easily.  For the past few months she stayed close to home, and during the Covid-19 lockdowns she was almost always with one or other of us, sleeping beside (or on) us as we did our thing at home.

We'll never know how old Kitty was.  We knew her for nine and a quarter years.  She was always a tiny little cat, and never grew in the time we knew her.

Kitty was a lovely, friendly, gentle cat.  We all miss her hugely, and it continues to feel strange her not being around the home with us.