Darling Pan, three years ago, we said farewell on this plane of existence. You were eighteen, so thin and tired, and your poor kidneys no longer worked. You told me it was time to let you go in the clearest way a cat can. And your thin little body collapsed in my arms before all the pink death had been pumped into your veins.

But I've never forgotten the bold black kitten who chose ME by climbing into my lap, and starting to purr and wash my face. Or the handsome, sleek boy who energetically sprinted through the apartment almost banking around the turns on his daily workouts, or who would trot down the concrete path outside the apartment as if he had a breakfast date in San Francisco. Or the old sweetie pie who draped himself over my shoulders and purred in my ear like a living fur stole in your later years.

You are gone, but never forgotten. I hope you and Izzy now share a sunny windowsill for a nap on the far side of The Bridge. Rest assured, Nina and Francesca are doing an excellent job of looking after me.

Melissa

In Loving Memory of Pan

Copyright © Melissa Houle, 2009