Yesterday, as of the posting of this, we said good bye to our cat Cleo.
She was eighteen years old and spent sixteen of those years with our family. She was solid black, including her whiskers and nose leather, with bright green eyes. Over the years, she ranged between fourteen to eighteen pounds. She was a big girl with a big personality to match.
She jumped into my wife’s lap at the Treehouse cat shelter in Chicago. Cleo knew she belonged with her. We weren’t dating at the time but I helped her bring Cleo home from Treehouse and that was the start of a long, wonderful journey.
Cleo lived with us in Illinois and Arizona and Florida. She played and argued and cuddled with two kitty sisters who she outlived. She demanded love but she gave so much love back.
Near the end, she had a number of geriatric issues, including severe arthritis that limited her mobility but not her spirit or voice. In the end, none of them were enough to stop her and she passed away from an unrelated stroke.
I have so many memories of Cleo. She was a part of our lives before our marriage and our son. She was our sassy, beautiful Chicago alley cat.
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