i still miss her.

      It all started with Tabby, the rugged little barn kitten. Friend of the family had been workin' on a farm when he caught wind that some farmhands were goin' 'round and "taking care of the barn cat problem" in the only way they knew how. Now, the truth is, I don't know if he really did take that shotgun and use it to clock the guy in the face; I only know that when he saw the little girl destined to be named after her fur, he rushed in to save her life, and quit the farm right then and there.
      Tabby proved a loyal friend, time and time again. Tough as nails, long after she'd been declawed, she could still take down birds with the best of 'em. Her big green eyes, her red leather nose, and the ability to stay asleep by your side despite the most restless of sleep . . . always there when you needed her to be. That was Tabby, through and through, the little girl who waited for summers and vacations, long after I slipped out the front door.
      Her eyesight left, and a tumor came, bringing with it the seizures. and her kidneys couldn't hold out anymore. She was twenty-three when she left us. Maybe it was for the best, given how she was by then. Every glimmer of who she was just marked the coming of another attack, and just when she'd come back to her old self again...
      She was like me, in the end. She couldn't take the memory. S'how it goes for a lot of us, maybe, in the end.
      Tabby used to love trees, especially the challenge of climbin' 'em. Never could get down on her own, though, the fearsome warrior suddenly rendered helpless by the cruelty of heights. Still remember the days when we'd search the high branches for the slightest trace of fur, sometimes anxious about needin' a ladder. She always came down, though. The brave little girl who lived through attempts on her life, and bein' thrown down the stairs by a four-year-old too afraid to go alone in the dark, who later became a comforting weight on a slumbering boy, always coming to her name.
      She was my best friend, my dearest companion. To say I loved her would be a lie. I still do.
      I always will.