My stepdaughter found two beautiful Balinese kittens drowning in a puddle. One of them didn't make it, but my wife was able to nurse the other kitten back to health. The surviving kitten was Kiki, and her story started almost two decades ago.
Kiki became very closely attached to my wife; anywhere my wife went, Kiki would be trotting along behind her. She ate at the table with us, slept with us, watched TV with us, did yard work with us, sat at the computers with us. If there was affection going on, she would come running from anywhere in the house and try to get in on it. When there was trouble or sadness, she would always be right in the middle trying to make everyone feel better. She was the sweetest, most loving cat I've ever seen. It's probably bad to say it, but Kiki was less like a cat and more like a fifth child.
We had to put Kiki to sleep last Friday due to advanced renal failure. I think it's the hardest thing I've done in my life. She made it to 18 years old. Kiki made it through four hurricanes, outlived half a dozen other cats and probably a whole zoo's worth of other animals... but 18 years still doesn't seem like enough
Rest In Peace, Kiki.
EDIT: Added a picture
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