Halloween 1991. I was in 7th grade, just turned 11 years old. I went Trick-or-Treating with my sister and her boyfriend. I was a witch, she was a princess, and he was a...flasher. Not quite as bad as it sounds. Quite. As the evening wound to a close, we noticed a persistent follower. A tiny little ball of fluff with a major motor. We brought our follower inside with us. She was the most beautiful little kitten--a perfect blend of siamese and tabby. She was so happy and sweet. Whenever anyone even entered the room, her little motorboat purr would start. It didn't take much to convince mom to let us keep her--especially once we found out that her owner wasn't even aware of the new litter of kittens.
Over the years, we also had visits from her brothers--Leo, who looked completely tabby (though strangely the stripes were made up of spots) and Sia, seeming completely Siamese. But Spook was always the best. The perfect combination. Eventually I grew up and moved away, and Spook quietly moved on to old age, keeping my parents company. My little family returned and disturbed her final years with wild and crazy little girls and dogs and new cats, but Spooky remained the regal queen over the household.
Now I am nearly 30, and the time has come for me to say goodbye to my sweet Spooky. She has been old and fragile for quite some time. This morning, though, her body gave out. Her stiff hind legs refused to move at all. She seemed alert, though somewhat confused at her traitor body not responding to her commands. But the time had come, and I held Spook on the way to the vet and watched as my mom held her for her last moments as the vet administered the anesthetic that would help her to drift away from the pain. The little motorboat kitten was still purring as she spent her final moments with the family she loved for nearly 2 decades. I drove my weeping mother home as we left behind her beloved old friend.
And now I say good-bye to my old friend. Farewell, sweet Spooky. Thank you for being a part of our family.
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