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There is no such thing as "just a cat."Robert A. Heinlein

This memorial website was created to remember our dearest Rosie who was adopted on March 1, 1996 and passed away on July 5, 2012. You will live forever in our memories and hearts.

My baby girl, my sweet, sweet Rosie, Life will never be the same without you in it.  You have always, always been there for me and I hope you feel I was always there for you.  From the moment I happened upon you at the cat adoption, not even looking for a kitty to bring home, there you were.  I won't ever forget how you were rubbing across the bars of the kennel, back and forth, back and forth, trying to get my attention, then how you cowered when the other kitty in the kennel  hissed at you.  Your pre-adoption name was Little Girl and that was the perfect name, because you were so small, even at 2 years old. I kept watching you, as they were closing up for the day and put you and your kennel mate into the carriers, and how once again, with your precious face peering outside the door of the carrier, you cowered as the other kitty hissed.  I knew right then and there I had to have you.  I learned about your story, how you were a stray who had recently had kittens, you were so starved that you lost the use of your back legs.  You had ear mites and were in such bad shape.  But they rehabilitated you because someone must have known you would find the perfect family who needed you the most.  Suddenly I was picking you up after you had surgery, sporting hot pink stitches on your surgical site.  You came into our home, rubbing against everything, as if to say, "That's mine, and that's mine, too."  You didn't hide in fear - you walked around like you had lived there for years.  We called you nosy Rosie because you were checking out every little thing - and the name stuck - you were now our Rosie, our little Rosebud - or as we formally named you, Rosalyn Francesca.   

We had so many adventures with you throughout the 16 years, 4 months and 4 days we were blessed to have you in our family.  You were the best kitty – never jumped up on counters (except that one time when I was soaking your hard food to soften it, and forgot to put it down for you to eat – oh yes, I noticed later after realizing I forgot to put it down for you that most of the food was eaten. I couldn’t blame you, right?).  You didn’t scratch up the furniture either.  You just lived to love us it seemed, with so much affection, purring, meowing and head butts anyone could ever ask for.  I always insisted you realized you were rescued and you showed your appreciation for that every single day we had you.

You made us laugh more than anyone or anything.  You had your “crazy tail” moments. That face you would make before you would flip out was the funniest face I’ve ever seen on a cat in my whole life! You went through a phase of checking our showers before we would go in – pawing at us as we entered as if you were warning us to be careful, and then the whole hair dryer thing.  Rosie, what was that?  That was the most hilarious thing – being so mesmerized by the sound of a hair dryer, that when we touched you, you literally jumped straight into the air.  Oh, how you made us laugh, you funny girl!

Although I never understood it, I loved your self-imposed rule of one kiss only.  Too funny!  You gave kisses, but if we went for a 2nd, you would slightly look away, as if to say, “Not now.  You’ll get another later.”

And then there’s Purple Baby.  I don’t remember how you ended up with it, but one day it became your baby – you would carry it in your mouth and howl, but only when no one was around.  When we would come find you to see what was wrong, you would immediately drop Purple Baby to the floor, with a look on your face like, “What?  I wasn’t doing anything. I’m fine, really.”  Or the times we would wake up or come home and find Purple Baby just lying in the center of the living room floor.  Purple Baby stayed with us right until the end, even if you weren’t carrying her around anymore, we still kept her and will place her on top of your urn.

I miss how you would interrupt conversations so you could be a part of it.  I loved how you would appear to be asleep and if we were talking about you, you would perk right up as if to say, “I know you’re talking about me.”  I miss just watching you sleep next to me on the couch, where I would subconsciously reach over to pet you, knowing you were there and loving you for everything you were to our family and to our lives.

And no matter where we brought you, people always said you were beautiful and such a good girl.  You were a “groomer’s dream” as one person put it; you never fussed, hissed, bit or scratched when we had to take you to the groomer or the vet.  It’s bitterly ironic that you ended up dying at the vet’s office, while you were still being cooperative and gentle, right to the very end.

I’ve never known any animal to be shy about their “bathroom needs” but you just hated having to use the litter box in front of anyone.  If you couldn’t hold it while one of us was in the bathroom, you would make an exception then going tearing out of the box when finished, spilling litter all over the place because you just couldn’t handle anyone seeing you.  Then how funny you were when the bathroom was empty that you would go back in and cover up your litter.  Such a quirky little part of your beautiful personality! 

We will always wonder about your brief adventures outside.  I know you didn’t care for being an indoor kitty, but that was one rule I was not going to break to make you happy.  You still found time to escape at least once each time we moved: first on Halloween night in Colorado; then to our first home in Connecticut, then in North Carolina, then again in Connecticut.  We moved so often and you were with us each time, sometimes even hidden so the landlords or hotels wouldn’t know.  I didn’t care about those lies – you were my baby and I wasn’t going to get rid of you for any reason. 

We finally settled into this house where I currently live, feeling all alone because you’re no longer here with me.  This was your final home.  And we loved it here, didn’t we?  I couldn’t get home quick enough each day to escape the difficulties of work and life, just to come home and find my sanctuary.  It turns out it wasn’t my home that was the sanctuary, it was YOU, because since you’ve been gone, I do not like going home and do not like sitting here without you.  I am desperately missing everything about you.  Everything!  I just want you back so I can talk to you, and you can talk to me – and we can cuddle and love and just hang out with each other.

I still don’t understand how it all ended so soon.  Just as in the very beginning, you were quite the actress hiding your illnesses and not letting me know how really sick you were.  I never thought when I brought you to the vet to find out why you weren’t eating that you would die there.  I wasn’t meant to leave that vet’s office with empty arms, Rosie!!!!  I wasn’t!!!!  My heart continues to break thinking about how it ended for you.  I just hope you felt me with you at the end, petting you, kissing you, loving you and crying for you as you slowly faded away.  I will be haunted forever wishing you had not stressed out by being there – I truly feel that is what caused the stroke.   I spent so much time making sure your life was as stress-free as possible; never getting another pet, never putting you in a kennel when we had to leave, doing as much grooming as I could at home so I didn’t have to bring you. 

You were meant to be a part of this crazy trio of 3 girls – you completed it by making it an even 4.  It has always been the 4 of us together.  Family didn’t matter to us as much as you, because they were the ones who either never visited or just up and abandoned us.  That is why we grieve for you more than any family member because you were more a part of this family than anyone else.  You loved us more, you cared for us more and you never, ever left us, until you had to.  And that is what breaks my heart, baby girl.  That is why I am missing you so much. 

People might think you were lucky to have been saved and to have found your forever home, but we were the lucky ones, Rosie.  You brought us the best part of our everyday lives.  Just knowing you were here every day helped us to survive so many awful moments in our lives.  I don’t know what we are going to do without you.  My life has never felt so empty.  You may have needed us, but we needed you even more.  You lived to be 18 years old, in which 16 of those years were with us.  And yet it still is not enough.  Right until the end, you hid your illnesses by showing us your undying love, appreciation and happiness.  You were purring, loving, meowing, and just being your normal, albeit more slowed down, version of yourself.  That’s why it’s so hard to accept that you are gone forever. 

I miss our nighttime ritual where you insisted on being held tightly in my arms and being rocked, as you nuzzled your head into the crook of my neck and purred your happy purr, while I repeatedly told you how much I loved you, how beautiful and good you were, that you were the best kitty in the world.  Then I would put you down and invite you to come sleep with me, yet you never did.  I guess you preferred the nighttime cuddling.  And now my arms ache each night as I go to bed and I look around for you, but realize you’re not here.  And I cry.  I’ve never cried like this before. 

I thank you my precious, precious girl, for ALL you brought into our lives.  I am forever grateful that I happened upon you that day in February 1996, where YOU adopted US. I truly believe with all my heart that I was the only person you fought so hard to pay attention to you, sensing something about what awaited you if I brought you home to 2 little girls who would love you more than anything in their world! I am forever grateful we officially brought you into our family on Friday, March 1, 1996.  From that day on, our lives were more fulfilled, more love-filled, more worthwhile.  You brought us more than we could have ever asked for.  And I know you felt loved, wanted and appreciated in return every day of your life with us.  Our lives will forever remain empty without you. 

Rest in peace my girl.  I have to believe we will see you again.  I have to believe you are still with us.  I hold you in my heart, arms and soul for the rest of my life.  I love you always.


Completed with heartfelt love and grief on July 14, 2012

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