We had to say goodbye to our cat Cyprus today. She was 12 years old and lived a happy life up until the end. We named her Cyprus because she was from that country. She was flown to Washington along with a dozen other kittens by a State Department worker stationed in Nicosia (the capital) who spent hundreds of dollars to transport these strays to a better life in America. We adopted her from the Feline Foundation when she was about 10 weeks old.
Cyprus was a Christmas present for our daughter when she was in the first grade. Rosalie picked her out from a dozen kittens at a foster home.
She was our first cat, and came to define "cat-ness" for us. Although we still have Seymour, our gray tabby, our empty nest just got a little emptier.
I wish I had better photos of her. In the one above, she looks like she's auditioning for sci-fi film, and in the one below, she's pissed off about something.
No photo could capture her sweet purr. She could purr so loud you could hear her in the next room. I think I will miss that most of all.
