Aurora and Boring Alice came into our lives 17 years ago. We loved them from the very first day. They were our first sister cats. People would ask which one was Aurora. I’d answer “the Long Haired One, Boring Alice is the Other One.” So our kitties ended up with two names. Aurora, aka el Aitcho, or LHO. Boring Alice, aka OhOh. Unfortunately, OhOh was in a car accident, and we lost her in 2005. She was the best mouser, and she would lay mouse heads by our doorstep like trophies.
LHO was my darling, I think I’ve never loved any cat more than her. She was so beautiful and had pretty amber/green eyes. She was shy around strangers, but never ever mean. I would know what she wanted by her language. Food, water, snack, or a cuddle. She would know when I needed her. She came to me when I was watching tv, reading a book, or needed comforting. We were one.
She was the purringest cat. Napping, upon awakening, smiling, playing, and with the first stroke of her lovely fur, and especially while being brushed. Oh, how she loved to be groomed. She was always a lady. Our routine was to scratch her back, brush the loose fur, brush around her face, repeat. End with a snack. She would be waiting for me in the kitchen when it was time for me to make my lunch for work. LHO would let me share my turkey or ham with her. Her favorite toys were a catnip flavored mouse, a crumpled piece of paper to bat around and chase on the linoleum, or a length of lanyard tied to a stick. LHO was my sleep buddy and slept either by my face or on top of me in bed. A perfect lap cat too. We would sit and watch videos for cats on the laptop computer together.
She got skin cancer on her forehead and there wasn’t much we could do for her. It was slow growing and really didn’t bother her too much until it grew so large, it started closing her left eye. But she never complained and was content to slow down and rest in her later years, still a lady. On June 22, Dr. Hoss was here to help her into her final sleep. I miss LHO terribly and still mourn. I am broken. She was a part of my life for a quarter of my life. I am comforted in knowing she didn’t suffer pain on her last day with us.