Two years!

I has been almost two years. Two years, since I ate those plants, hid myself, and passed on. Two years since I left this world and my family behind. Two years since I arrived at the Bridge, made countless new friends, reunited with Softy, and since I had to start over without my mom. I know it's sad that I cut my little life so short and broke my mom's heart. I was entitled to more lives, wasn't I? Not that I ever thought the world owed me anything, but come on, how many lives did Softy get? 50? I know how awful it was for my mom and rest of my family those 2 months I was missing. I know how bittersweet it was when I was found. I know how good Cookie was to her that whole year she was orangie-less. I know how understanding he was when she finally got Radley, and I know how much "understanding" Radley required that first month or so. I knew she was ready for a new orangie, a baby, and I knew she was determined that the right cat would come to her. I think she thought she would be disloyal to me by going out and procuring another cat, so I sent her Radley myself. I know how much it broke her heart again when Radley ran away, so I sent her back, and I told her, "Radley, this is your last feral escapade. Pretty soon you're getting fixed and declawed, so enjoy it, and go home when you get hungry. There are mean neighbors around here who trap un-ear-tipped cats like you, boo, and you're scaring your new mom to death. It was just a year ago that she lost her me." So she came home, thank God. I'm still watching over my family, sending good vibes, praying for Cookie's continued health and well-being. Maybe the purpose of losing a young cat like me is so that you can know that each day with your old guys is a gift. Each day with any loved one is a gift, but they become particularly precious with age. My family is very lucky to have the cats they have. Cookie is still kicking, and still getting cooler and sweeter every day. Oreo and Radley are special because they are custom gifts from Softy and me, respectively, meant for their people. And the ferals now have IndyFeral watching their backs, and an ordinance on their side, so they're about as safe as ferals can really be, which is awesome. Gabie is still Gabie, and I still love him. He has a face only a mother and I could love. Just kidding, but I am the only cat who ever really liked him, and certainly the only one who ever curled up with him. A couple of times mom caught us stealing away to the back bedroom to curl up in an old box of linens together. We were so cute. It was fun to have a fair fight every now and then, too, even though I was half his size. At least he's not a munchkin or geriatric, so I could scrap with him. I really miss my old family, but I have a new, huge one here that's also really great, and Softy's here, so I'm happy. I just want my mom to not be sad. It's OK to miss me (I miss you too), but don't be sad. You've got Radley now to fetch with and to sleep on your feet, you've STILL got the Cookman, and you'll always have a baby at home with Miss Oreo. Love, Simba.