The neighbor’s cat — Pepper, aka Sweetness, Pepperoni, and Peprika — headed over the rainbow bridge the other day. I stumbled onto this post about her today and re-posted it in memory of her.
An old, sweet callie, she seems in pain, and tired. Our neighbor for fourteen years, sShe’s a frequent visitor, singing at doors until we let her in, letting herself in if the pet door is open, and then launching an opera about getting fed until she’s paid for her efforts.
This morning, I’d let her in, fed her, and returned to bed. After a bit, I felt a cat get on the bed, an effort noted for the sounds of climbing up the duvet. I thought it was her because of the lightness of being that tread across my legs and confirmed it with a glance. This was a first for her; she’d never visited us in bed before.
She began a purring lullaby as she came up the bed. Stopping by my face, she greeted my nose with a soft tongue touch and amped her purring to eleven. Going…
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Michael Seidel, writer 
It’s always so hard to lose a pet friend.
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Yep. Leaves a void.
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And then you remember the other cats who have created a void.
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You know it. That’s partially my doing. My approach to a dying fur friend is to help them and their quality of life and then, as that deteriorates, to tell them it’s okay to let go and move on. I then reach out to other animals I knew who moved on and ask them to help this one make the transition. So, yeah, I remember them sharply. I often have a sensation that they’re visiting me, looking at me. It’s all bittersweet.
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