2001 - 2017
Oh, PK. You were already a senior cat when we adopted you in 2008. They guessed you were six years old, but maybe seven or eight. You were so big we named you PK, short for "Panzer katse" since you did look like a tank. You were standoffish at first, and didn't like people snuggling you too much, but as the years passed you mellowed out.
You always slept with us, always tried to swipe food from our plates. Your loving mood never changed, even when your body started to show signs of it age and you had trouble keeping weight on anymore. I saw the signs that you were near the end, and I did the best I could to keep you comfortable. Then one day, we came back from vacation, I fed you, and you disappeared, which you'd never done before. A stranger took you to the animal ER, who then handed you over to the Humane Society. They helped you over the Rainbow Bridge, and when I came to claim you, it helped me to see that you died curled up in your usual sleeping position, one paw halfway over your face. It told me you weren't scared, that you faced death with dignity. I wish I could have been there, but I can hear you telling me it's ok to cry, that you died happy, that I loved you more than enough.
I wish I had longer with you, but I'd be saying that no matter how old you got. Say hi to Frisky for me, would you?