(Evanston, IL, USA)
Timmy was nineteen when he died three years ago and I still miss him dreadfully.
When he was born he was half the size of his littermate and I didn't expect him to survive long, so he got the name Tiny Tim.
Shortly before he died, he insisted on going outside to see his friends, the horse and the sheep. Here's this little (and, at that time) skinny cat tottering out to see his friends. So, of course, I picked him up so that he could visit his friends.
Oh how touching! I can so relate to the small cat -story. You see my "heart cat" Bertha was an Abyssinian and quite small. She was smaller than average, and even her tail was much shorter, we called it "Sting" after the sword Frodo got from Bilbo in The Lord of the Rings.
But oh boy was she a character! She made it clear to the neighbor's dog whose yard he was trying to enter, and our other cats, twice her size, admitted she was the boss.
When it was her time to go, I took her in my lap, wrapped in a soft scarf, and took her to our balcony. There we sat for half an hour, so she could listen to the spring birdsong and feel the sunshine once more while I waited for hubby to drive home and take us to the vet I had called earlier, having seen her fall from her feet to the floor. She was almost 18, so thin and frail that I took up the phone and made the appointment.
So there we sat, together for the last time. I thanked her for the wonderful years and she looked at me with eyes that knew she was leaving for the Rainbow Bridge.
When we got to the vet, she quietly passed away leaving an empty space in my heart that was no match to her tiny size - it was huge.
Isn't it amazing how much you can miss a tiny cat?