Moony
I got this little gem of a girl from União Zoófila -- the Portuguese animal rescue society -- all the way back in September 2002. I had this crazy boxer named Shiva, waiting eagerly for her back home. The first impression was remarkable. As soon as the drooling machine sniffed her and bequeathed his foamy blessing, she laid her fuzzy little paw on his schnoz. Inseparable from that day on, he was the one who taught her how to be a good dog. (Yes, that's not a mistake, she was much less cat than dog.)
That was my girl Moony (Luinha). The valiant food thief. The brave burglar cat who once stole a piece of cod right from the grill as it was grilling, leaving me astounded due to its uncanny disappearance. She was a public relations well esteemed by all, a lifelong companion, of many shared lives -- even though we only had 13 years together.
She was the main responsible for my not leaving this country and moving to England. All because I found out I would have to leave her in quarantine for who knows how long, when I hadn't spent a day away from her up until then. And all that after I had had a suit fitting, and a pre-signed contract with British Airways. I didn't share the reasons with a single soul, back then.
Anyway, it's been almost 6 years now without you, mein Kätzschen, and I bloody fucking miss you. You can never -- ever, ever -- be replaced.
If my lap was your home, how did I end up being the one feeling homeless?