I am not sure how much I want to go into here, but it felt right to write about her. I have a candle in my apartment burning for her.
At that point, we weren't ready for a cat, and my mom advised us not to name her because we were going to find her a good home and shouldn't get too attached. Surprise, surprise: someone got too attached (me). Kitty came to us at only 6 weeks old, and I did a lot of research on how to take care of her. When the time came for my mom to take her to her new home, she returned later... with Kitty. She had seen the note I had written the night before with instructions on feeding and how to care for her, looked at me and said, "I just couldn't do it."
So Kitty became mine. I spent some years living in other cities and at college, but always came home to her. And finally, she moved in with me at the start of this year, and somewhere in the back of my mind I named our time together, "Erin and Kitty's Atlanta Adventure".
But today my darling girl left me after 8 years. I didn't realize she was having a stroke as I cradled her in her beloved blankie and rushed to the vet's.
Kitty loved tuna, belly-rubs, and curling up on top of my feet. She is dearly, dearly missed. I kept her collar and put it up next to her candle.
This last picture I took on Instagram - my baby and I, holding feet.