Miss Kitty.

When I was 19, I went with my friend Jessy for a weekend visit to her dad's house. He lived about 3 hours south-east in an area of southern California I'd never been to. When we got to Paul and Jan's house, we were greeted by a cat with a fluffy grey mane. She didn't have a name because nobody knew who she belonged to. The story was that one day, the cat came in through the doggy door and none of the dogs did anything about her. Jan was a little nutty and said that the cat would talk to her and tell her stories. The whole thing was pretty comical. And seeing how I've always loved cats, and this cat had no home, it was like we were destined for each other.

Over the span of the two days that we were there, I fell in love with the cat and decided I would keep her. Jessy and I went to a local pet store, we bought a carrier, and the three of us headed home. At the time, I was kind of like a live-in nanny and I'm sure the woman I lied with was probably like "Wtf" when I brought a cat home. Thankfully, she was totally okay with my impromptu plan and the cat stayed.

About a year or so later, during the summer, I moved out of the of family house and into a fraternity house at UCLA. I took the cat, Miss Kitty, with me. Not too long after our move, Miss Kitty went missing. I remember sitting on the disgusting couch in my dorm room, crying on the phone to my mom about how Miss Kitty probably got lost and how she didn't know the area, etc. I felt awful. I walked all around Westwood, looking under cars, calling her name like a crazy person. I ended up finding that damn cat sitting in some girl's apartment window, nice and cozy as I was sopping wet from the rain.

You better believe I knocked on their door and got my cat back.

As time went on, my life took me here and there. When I went back to college, I moved into a dorm where there were no pets allowed. I went backpacking across Europe. I got married. All the while, Miss Kitty stayed with my mom. Mom was always home and they kept each other company. And every time I'd visit, I'd get my Kitty fix. She was always game for dressing up. And she loved talking. Like, nonstop back-and-forth meow sessions. Always full of zest, she was one of those cats that would come barreling down the stairs meowing left and right as soon as she heard someone enter the front door. And her thing as of the last few years was to rub her face on the phone whenever mom was on it. Being on the other end of many of these phone conversations, it sounded like phone was being massaged by a jackhammer. Miss Kitty was always purring. And always trying to get into some unsuspecting person's lap so she could inconspicuously make herself at home.

Look at those magnificent fluffs in motion

Recently, Miss Kitty starting getting sick. Mom had been mentioning the idea of "taking her in." Neither one of us wanted to do it, but we both knew the time was coming. She tried to prolong the inevitable as much as she could. Like when Miss Kitty stopped eating and mom kept her nibbling on baby food. Even though her body was shutting down, we didn't want to let her go.

Today, Miss Kitty passed away.

It's a hard thing to accept when a family pet is no longer there. All evening, there's been a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball. And my face keeps crumpling into a mess of snots and tears. I didn't think I would be so upset considering we hadn't been very close lately. But I think that's actually why I feel so bad. Miss Kitty had turned into a garage-cat over the past several months and I hardly spent any time with her. The last few times I was at mom's house, I didn't even make an effort to see her.

I feel guilty and wish I could go back in time. It's hard knowing I didn't get to say goodbye. And I didn't appreciate my last visit with her. And I didn't get to tell her how sweet she was.

In the end, she passed while being held in mom's arms. I can't think of a better way to go.

I love you Miss Kitty.

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Coffee with Mark.

It's always sad when someone you know passes away. Especially when it happens out of the blue and there's been no time to warm up to the idea of saying goodbye.


This past weekend I went to a funeral service for a friend I met while in college. His name was Mark and he was a goofy, awkward guy who always had a sneaky smile on his face, like he'd just played a practical joke on you, but didn't want you to find out. Kind of the way you'd picture your best friend's pesky little brother. There was more than one occasion when I found myself huffing and puffing for him to leave me alone while I attempted to finish my homework. He was funny as shit- always reliable to say something awfully inappropriate- and I remember having lots of laughs with him.

We worked together in the campus admissions office for two years. Over that period of time I got to see what a sensitive, caring, thoughtful, sincere person he was. And I don't mean that in a blinded, superficial way- like when a girl is talking about her boyfriend who's clearly a jerk, but she insists that he's really a "sweetheart." I mean it, genuinely. Mark was THE "nice guy" and everyone who met him could see it plain as day.

He was always doing really thoughtful things, like coming into work with baked goods that his mom had made. I remember one time in particular, he brought in two loaves of banana bread. One, he gave to the emplyees in our department. The other, he gave me personally, so my roommates and I could have plenty for ourselves.

And when it came to working, Mark gave it his all. Even though we were student employees, he took his responsibilities seriously. My friend Melissa worked down the hall in a different department, and she even admitted to bringing the "difficult" parents to Mark because he had a calming and reassuring way about him. There was one dad in particular who was a real asshole... Mark never even batted an eyelash at him.

After I graduated, I didn't see Mark anymore. We never ran into each other around town and it had literally been years since we'd been in contact. Randomly, two months ago, Melissa ran into him at Target. They caught each other up on stories related to people they both knew, myself included. That same day, I found a message in my Facebook inbox. The message said "Ahhhhhhhh-HAAAAAA! Found you." Of course. It was Mark. We messaged a few times back back and forth. And although my initial reaction to seeing the message was "Pesky Mark again..." it was actually a really nice surprise to hear from him. I had always remembered him as being a funny, sweet guy, so it was nice to hear the same goofiness come across in his emails. Upon finding out that I was unemployed, he quickly sent me advice on how to find paying blog gigs. He had also caught himself up on my personal blogging efforts and said that he was happy to hear about my "new butt."

In one of those messages, he mentioned the possibility of meeting with him and his girlfriend to catch up over coffee.  I dismissed it, thinking it was just polite smalltalk. Looking back, I wish I would have taken him up on his offer.

His service this weekend was a somber event and any attempts I would have made to hide my sadness would have been pointless. I imagine that after crying for the past hour, my puffy face and melted makeup looked like a cross between Jocelyn Wildenstein and Joker Cat. Soon enough, the time had come for guests to give their condolences to his family. I didn't really know what to say, as I was sure that pretty much every other person there meant more to his family than I did. When it got to my turn, I gave my condolences, introduced myself, and told them how I knew Mark. His parents seemed genuinely happy and even said "Oh! I know you!" when they learned who I was. They said that Mark would have been very happy to have me there. I don't know if that was just the polite thing to say in a situation like that, but it made me feel good. I was glad that I was able to go to this event for Mark and I was glad that I had the chance to meet his family.

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I'm sharing this story not to get sympathy, but as a reminder of how fragile, and sometimes unfair, life is. And knowing that Mark was a fan of writing and storytelling, I think he would truly appreciate this post.

I know he is in a better place and I look forward to the day when we'll get another chance to catch up over coffee.

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