For the past ten and a half years, my family has been owned by a beautiful orange tabby cat named Ginger (whom we lovingly called Gigi). We lost or precious Gigi on May 11, 1998 and there is a hole in our hearts and in our lives. A member of our family has left us.
Ginger came to live with us when she was only about 3 months old. We weren't in the market for a pet, but when my brand new husband came to tell me about the poor little kitten his co-worker had found and couldn't keep, I gave in and went to meet this cat. When our eyes met, it was love at first sight. Ginger was a tiny, dirty, sick little thing, and she started to purr the minute we walked into the room. From that moment on, Ginger was our baby. In fact, she was our only baby for five years until a human child came along.
I remember the young cat who played fetch up and down the stairs of our apartment, the kitty who slept nestled close to us under the bed covers, the kitty who lazed in sunny windows. I remember the kitty who sat patiently in my office waiting for me to be done, the kitty who would so gently reach up her paw to let you know she was there and wanted attention, the kitty who gave kisses, the kitty who licked ears if she could get to them. I can still hear her meows and imagine that she is here with me.
Unfortunately, time passes on and we all get older. For kitties, this aging process is much quicker than for we human animals. Our baby was so sick when she left us. Gigi is in heaven now and is once again a young cat lazing in a sunbeam. She will always have a place in our hearts; we all miss her so much. Words can't begin to describe the sorrow we feel at losing our little kitty, but our lives wouldn't have been as rich if we hadn't belonged to her.