It's pretty cool reading everyone's stories about the special pets they've had throughout their lives.
We used to have a cat named Dusty. For the first few days that we had her, she hid underneath our couch. After a few days she changed hiding places to my brother's bed. She sort of became his cat, as she liked him the most of all of us. Particularly amusing was her affection for his guitar playing. Whenever he'd play, she'd have to be in the room with him, twitching her tail and watching. When he moved out, my brother had to leave Dusty behind. She and I became fast friends. She was the sweetest, smartest cat I've ever known.
Once, when she had only been with us for a month or so, I caught her on top of a dresser where she wasn't allowed. My brother told me that I had to swat her and then get her down. I didn't really want to hurt her, so I sort of half-flicked her on the side. She turned, gave me a very strange look, and then swatted my hand with her paw. She used to steal checkers while Mom and I were playing and hide them in my brother's shoe. She was a great campanion and friend.
I found her dead on the couch one morning as I was getting ready for highschool. She had been in good health, although once or twice I had seen her sort of blank out...losing her concentration and fall from a couch or table. I was concerned, but it only happened a few times and I assumed it was just part of growing old. The next week she was gone. Because I found her on the couch, one of her favorite sleeping places, I assume she died peacefully.
I wrote a poem for her after she was gone. She was a great cat.
