You brought joy to those you touched. You had an irre­sistible charm borne of inno­cent mis­chief. You saw your­self as more human than cat, and made your pres­ence felt despite not speak­ing much. You par­tic­i­pated in every­thing and your curios­ity knew no bounds. You were a peace­maker and a soother. You ruled the house and you wel­comed all into your sphere. You feared naught. You lived to eat and you ate every­thing — we under­stood this as a show of affec­tion, of belong­ing, of par­tic­i­pat­ing in the daily fam­ily rit­u­als. You lived a full life, and you gave more than you took.

So long, my stead­fast com­pan­ion. Thank you for the mem­o­ries; you graced our lives. You are my friend and I miss you much. May you rest in peace.

The Best Thing in the World

What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Plea­sure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
–Some­thing out of it, I think.

Eliz­a­beth Bar­rett Browning

Do not go gen­tle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas