For my 13th birthday, my parents got me a kitten, who we named Snickers. We brought her home in a laundry basket in the backseat of our minivan. For the first few weeks, Snickers stayed in my room, and would wake me up in the middle of the night, mewling for me to pick her up and put her on the bed. When I went away to college, Snickers stayed with my parents, and I looked forward to seeing her every time I went back home.
Yesterday morning Snickers passed away at the age of 17. She was a sweet cat, and I can't think of anything mischievous that she ever did (unlike my cat Kiska, who added eating all my pepper plant seedlings to her list of misdeeds this week). She was quiet and sneaky, but always left reminders of her presence on all of our clothes in the form of long, white hairs. Thanks for spending your life with us. We'll miss you, Snick.
