Goodbye, Cleo

Last week, our crazy fluffy cat, Cleo (aka: Mon Kitte Le Bouf)(aka: My Little Kitty Poof-head) passed away at the age of 14. We rescued her from the pound when she was just a little kitten. We couldn't resist when we walked by her cage and she reached her little paw out to us through the bars. As you can see from her picture, she was long-haired and very fluffy. She looked much fatter than she actually was, because of all that fur. She started out a very friendly cat, but due to an overabundance of torment from the BOYS in the family, she ended up being kind of a skittish cat who preferred the great outdoors to the comforts of home. After both David and Brian moved out, she would occasionally deign to reward us with her presence, but her affections were few and far between. She loved Amy and Maddie though, and liked to sneak in every night to sleep with Amy. (She was a little confused when Amy traded her bed in for a hammock last year. Cleo was forced to sleep on the floor underneath during her sleepovers!) My favorite thing about Cleo was the funny positions she would get herself in when she came to visit. She would walk regally into the family room in that nose-in-the-air, tail-straight-up cat position that seemed to shout, "Hello everybody. I'm HERE!" Then, she would promptly throw her self on her back, relax totally, and splay her legs in all directions. It looked so funny I always wondered how she could possibly be comfortable.

I will miss her rubbing against my legs and letting me scratch behind her ears. I'll miss her purring and her quiet presence. I'll miss her big black eyes and her sweet pyramid-marked face. I'll miss you, Cleo.