For Leaky

One day, in 1995 or 96, a tiny kitten was born in Los Angeles. A classy lady through and through, she was always dressed in her formal wear. This tiny kitty soon caught pneumonia, which stunted her growth and left her with a life-long case of asthma. She didn't let that slow her down, though, and grew into a petite adult kitty. Named Alicia and quickly nicknamed Leaky due to her tendency to drool when petted, she changed hands several times before landing in rural Humboldt County, California, some years later. On Memorial Day weekend 2004, I had a chance encounter with this tiny tuxedo-colored cat. We became best friends instantly, and she came home with me that Monday afternoon. Seven years ago, I promised that little cat that I would provide her forever home. I held true to my word.



Through seven houses, multiple roommates, and a twelve-hour drive from Santa Cruz to Portland, Leaky was my constant companion and loyal friend. When Bobby started coming around, she would run to greet him at the door. She favored him, and would jump in his lap whenever it was available. We had many adventures together, and moved into a big house with plenty of windows to sit in. She grudgingly accepted a sister named Georgia, and tolerated her presence with the occasional hiss. Leaky had many friends, and charmed everyone she met. She was a tiny but tough little kitty, who once won a fight with a chocolate lab several times her size. If nobody wanted to pet her, she would rub on people's feet.



In recent months, Leaky's health began to deteriorate. She had difficulty drinking water, and lost half of her body weight. She was irritable, had trouble with her balance, and spent most days parked in front of anything that radiated heat. She loved the heating vents, the bottom of the refrigerator, the fireplace, and the top of the cable box. She stopped cleaning herself, and her fur became matted. We decided to give her a bath to help out.





It didn't help much, though it gave her more pettable surface area than she had before. Still, she showed little chance of improvement, and we were forced to make a difficult decision. With a quaking voice, I called the Rose City Veterinary Hospital to make an appointment. In our remaining days with her, we tried to make her as happy and comfortable as possible. We let her eat half a can of tuna, and we took her out in the yard on a sunny day for some fresh air and a photo shoot.





The day came yesterday. Though it broke both our hearts, we loaded the kitty in the car one last time. We petted her sweet little head, told her what a good and loved kitty she had been, and held her little paws the whole way through. She was my first kitty and my unconditional friend. She added great joy to my life, and I hope I added the same to hers. We will continue to miss her, but are comforted by the many memories we shared with her, and by the tremendous support of family and dear friends during this difficult time.