A Kitty Eulogy

This is the Eulogy that I wrote about Berkeley right after she went missing. I never posted it because it was too painful. I think I am ready. Here.


Caution: The following post is a eulogy and contains spiritual and sacred information about me ... and my cat. Read at your own risk.

On June 1, our kitty, Berkeley Aphrodite the Gray Kitty went missing, and it is pretty clear now that she is not coming home. Berkeley was more than a cat. She was a miracle, an answer to prayer and a huge part of our family. The following is a parting eulogy for our beloved cat, who we will miss forever.

Berkeley started out at an idea. When Tim and I got married, Tim told me that he preferred to not have indoor pets but that the only exception to this rule would be a gray kitty. He said that gray kitties are the nicest and the softest and the only pet he would want. So, the idea of a gray kitty to bless our lives lived long before my "Boodle" did.

Berkeley first met the neighbors down the road who were scared of cats and did not see the divinity in a sweet cat that ran straight through your front door and cuddled right up in your bed. They thought they were getting rid of a pest, but what they gave us was a miracle. When, Berkeley came to live with us, I was more depressed than I had ever been, and I had prayed so hard for the pain to go away and for God to bless us with a baby (a real one, not a cat.)

We named "him" Francisco, and then packed to leave on vacation the day after "he" got here. He jumped in our suitcases, slept on our necks, cuddled and then literally cried with delight like a human when we returned from our trip -- like a person who is crying so hard they can't speak. He loved us from the start, and he slowly made the pain go away. I bought him gifts for the babysitter to give him on Christmas morning when we were going to be away and he had only been with us three weeks.

When we got home from Christmas, "Francisco" was pregnant. This is how she got a new first name and a middle name to suit her magical fertility powers. She got really fat and started laying around. We, like any other crazy obsessive cat owners, took her to the vet for a prenatal check-up, and then we waited patiently for the magic to happen. She gave birth to 4 kittens in a box on our bed. She brought the magic of birth and life and peace and hope. She brought love. She brought babies.

She cried out of confusion the first night she was a mom because she wanted to sleep in the bed with us, but her babies would cry for her and she had to go back to her box. She jumped back and forth all night long. She finally chose them, but came back to the bed as soon as possible.

Berkeley was more than the perfect cat, who barely cried, always came when called, waited for you to come home, ALWAYS jumped in your suitcase, let the baby pull her fur, and tried to jump in the bath tub. She was a miracle. She alone made the pain go away. She alone had the love I needed when she arrived. She alone got pregnant when I could not and then gave me the babies and all the fun.

She got jealous when Quinn was born, and she always wanted to be closer to me than the baby was. We worked it out over time, and she spend hundreds of nights and days sleeping with Quinn or making Quinn giggle.

But the truth is I am not that sad to see her go. I believe honestly and truly that she was a miracle sent from heaven to heal me. I am surprised she stayed as long as she did. I haven't really needed her in years. (But I think she just really liked me the way I liked her.) I hope she left because someone else needed her. I hope someone else thinks she is just a lost Kitten who needs a home. They are in for a surprise and a miracle. I hope they love taking care of her. I did.

Berkeley, I'll miss you. I truly will. I love you with all my heart, and no matter where you are, you will always be my answer to prayer, my mercy, my miracle, my friend, my hope, my kitty, my boodle, my Berkeley-boo and my baby.