It's with a devastated heart that I post about my Gilby. He was a runt, the cat that no one wanted. I adopted him the week after I graduated college and started working for myself full time - my roommate said I could only get a cat if it didn't have any hair, and...well...let's say I have a sense of humor. We worked alone, just me and him, for 6 years- he would spend most days on my shoulders, purring and watching over my work. Even after we picked out his brother Finn together, Gilby just wanted to hang out and talk with me all day.
He was a grouch by anyones standards; a drama queen, the ruler of the roost. He liked things his way, and while he entertained people in our house he was clear that I was his only home.
Tonight I arrived from an overnight trip to find Gilby on my bed, his paws tucked under his favorite blanket as he slept in the summer. Unfortunately this time was different - he had passed in his sleep. He had been breathing heavily the past month, but the vet gave him a clean bill of health and we chalked it up to his life-long wheeze.
I'm heart broken, but I thank whoever is in charge that I had my short time with Gilby. He was my best friend, and my once-in-a-lifetime connection with another living thing. Gilby was my home, too. I love you Gilb, and I'll always cherish growing up with you.
I can't even imagine
