On Friday, we said goodbye to our dear Jinx. After her stroke two years ago, every day has been a gift and still, it felt like it came too suddenly and too soon.

Jinx came home with me from the Toronto Humane Society when she was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. We had 20 years together, through thick and thin for the both of us. She was a quirky little boo who had an extraordinary vocabulary. (I blame my sister Shannon for Jinx’s talkativeness; Shannon always meets a meow with a meow!) It was Jinx’s sad mew in the morning that let me know something was wrong.

Jinx was the kind of cat who sat in boxes that were too small for her, who thought most people were furniture and who would start meowing for breakfast if she heard you so much as turn over in bed. In recent years she loved to sleep with her face planted into her blanket and all her life she loved to have her ears rubbed. When she was younger, she was a bit of mischief. I remember walking into the living room and finding her perched on the top of an open door! I still don’t know how she got there. She was always a bit of a scared-y cat. In fact, she showed me that the cartoons aren’t exaggerating; cats really do bristle, jump straight up and say, “Pfzzzst!”

She never liked to be picked up but in the past couple of weeks she demanded it of us daily. She’d be underfoot until we’d relent, scooping her up into our arms, where she would relax and purr and gently headbutt.

We weren’t the only ones making sure there were lots of cuddles before it was time to go.

I miss her dearly already and know there will always be a spot in my heart reserved for our little Jinx. Thank you so much to everyone who has been sending love. All of us who are feeling the loss feel surrounded by love. Thank you.