Originally uploaded by Kodamakitty.
My eldest cat, Nikita, passed away shortly after midnight today. She was a kitten when I graduated from high school, so that makes her 16.
Nikita, or Nikki, was an ornery grande dame who survived moving from my mom's house to two other apartments before we bought the house is Harper Woods. She was a cranky, feisty cat who would love you and then nip you, just because she could. I somehow felt safe when Nikita was around, because she seemed like the sort of cat who would know if there was something dangerous lurking in the shadows. If she could sleep soundly, then I was okay.
Nikki loved my brother Alex and quickly attached herself to my husband Geoffrey when she moved out with me. She was fearless when it came to our two dogs, whose presence she barely tolerated. Our younger dog, Zookie, is very lucky indeed that Nikki was declawed. Zookie has a habit of taking long and in-depth sniffs of everything and when Nikitia reached her limit, bam! Bam! BAM! She'd smack at Zookie with a mean right hook.
As she got older, she got a little quirky, at it wasn't unusual for her to start yowling like a little banshee around 11:30 at night. When we finally all tucked in, she would settle herself on the bed, oftentimes somewhere on or near Geoffrey.
Nikita never really sought me out or pandered for my attention, but that doesn't mean I won't miss her. It will seem odd to not have people wonder what is wrong with me when I say I have two dogs and three cats. Somehow only having four pets seems so ordinary.
Sleep well, sweet cat. Thank you for watching over me.