Lucy was a special girl. As a vet once said, “I know everyone has a special bond to their cat, but you must really love her”. And I did, with my whole heart. Lucy was a remarkable cat, always curious to see what her humans were up to and how she could be involved. I often described her as a little human trapped in a cat’s body. She loved to talk and had an undeniable personality that charmed me immediately, as well as my parents (who had previously identified as being “not really pet people” but quickly became “Lucy people”). She was so very smart. When I adopted her at the beginning of the pandemic, she learned to high-five me, and she could jump through my arms when I formed them into a hoop. Beyond that, it was as if she understood her humans, sometimes before they even understood themselves. She would curl right up onto you after a hard day, her purrs reminding you that all we had to do in that moment was exist. She loved all sorts of food, but especially her Churu sticks, which she would attempt to clasp in both her paws while she ate them, sitting up on her hind legs. She loved when I’d host parties and would sit right in the middle of groups of friends while they showered her with toys, treats, and affection. She loved to play as well, but was particular about it. If you didn’t bring the toy in the direction you wanted her to, she’d pause and stare at you until you corrected yourself. I always thought she was more entertained by observing her humans. She hated it when I played music because I was focused on something else as intently as I usually was on her, and she’d jump up onto the piano in protest to interrupt me. She did, however, love Mort Garson’s “Plantasia”. Her ears would flicker hearing the bird-like synthesizer, and she’d blink slowly at me. She was full of life, up until the very end. It was difficult to believe just how sick she was, because she stayed her beautiful Lucy self in so many ways.

Lucy died much too young at 9 years old, because she had an aggressive form of lymphoma that quickly led to strain on multiple systems of her body. I spent 6 of those beautiful years with her, and I know that her impact will last for years to come. She touched the lives of everyone who met her and taught me how to love others and myself better. It was a privilege to be her person.

Thank you to Dr. Jeff and his team at Lifting Stars, whose gentle presence and knowledge created a space for the most dignified goodbye we could have given her.