This afternoon was rather difficult to get through. My cat, Jessie, had to be put down. She hadn't eaten in a few days and became very weak. Being that she was over 16 years old, this is basically what is expected. However, that doesn't make it any easier.

Now, she may have been "my" cat, but she was never a fan of me. She took a much stronger liking to my Dad. He was the "big cat" as my Mom always said. He has a very string bond with all of our feline friends. Jessie, she was kind of a mean cat, to put it honestly. She hissed a lot and never hesitated to pop you with her paw if you so much as annoyed her one bit. She successfully scared away my brother's border collie this Christmas. Keep in mind, he's 10 times her size. Never the less, she was rather intimidating. Over the past week, her intimidation level plummeted, and for the first time in years, we sort of became friends. Though this may have been due to the fact that she was too weak to bite me, I still enjoyed it.

I never thought it would be so sad to say goodbye to cat. I knew putting her down would be best and she no longer would suffer, but it's more difficult than one would think. To watch your father tear up upon saying his goodbyes and then drive away with your cat and return without her is rather heartbreaking.

According to my Dad, she fought to the end. She was hissing and carrying on at the vets and very angry with the barking dogs. I expected nothing less. That has been her personality for as long as I can remember.

I am comforted in knowing that she is safe in kitty heaven with lots of other cats to fight with, and of course lots of sinks to drink the dripping water from, but she will still be missed. I am so used to telling people I have 5 cats. 4 may seem a little less "crazy cat lady ish," but it doesn't seem right.

Rest in peace Jessie cat.