Cats Shouldn't Die

Holden died today. Holden was my ex-fiancee’s cat. He never belonged to me, but I still loved him. He had as much life as a cat could want, he lived 19 years, he traveled the entire United States, and had adventures untold. After I broke my engagement to Jules, I think it was him that I missed the most. He loved to sit on a table or counter, wait until I bent over to pick something up, and then jump onto my back so he could sleep draped over my shoulders like a stole, and he would lay there happily purring for hours while I walked around. He loved Mozart, and would rub against the speakers endlessly anytime you played "Fur Elise". Anytime you’d give him a french fry, he would growl at it from a distance for a while, then viciously pounce on it, pick it up between his paws, and then throw it around so he could pounce on it again, and not until the french fry was properly subdued would he eat it. He was also my Buena’s first boyfriend, and the only other cat she ever loved. She met him when she was a kitten and would come to his house to steal his toys.

After a long time thinking I finally thought of something that gave me a smile. The way that cats seem to love life the most when they are sleeping next to someone they love makes me hope that death holds no fear for them as long as their sleep lets their spirit remain close to the one they love.