Teddy passed away peacefully on July 5, 2006 held by me and with Chris by his side. After he had passed, I cradled him in my arms and kissed the top of his little head. He never liked being held that way and I had always wondered what it would be like. I nuzzled his neck and inhaled deeply, knowing it would be the last time I would smell his sweet scent.
When he first came into my life, he was a skinny, matted, mess of a cat. Neglected for years by someone unable to care for him, he was dropped off at a shelter in Daytona and left to fend for himself. He was spotted by a rescue and brought in, just as I began a search for a cat to care for. We were brought together, a girl struggling with depression who had long ago traded smiles for tears and a fleabitten, sickly cat who had not forgotten how to love. He would sit on my lap and lick wet food off my fingers and purr as I whispered and sang to him. As he nourished his poor body, he also fed my desire to feel needed and important. It is still unclear whether I rescued Teddy or Teddy rescued me.
Today when I woke up, there was no one sleeping on the pillow next to me and I remembered that he was gone. I sang a bit of one of the songs I sang to him often, changing the lyrics as I always did when I sang it to him: "I always knew that I'd find a cat like you..."
The amount of joy that Teddy has brought into my life can not be expressed without invoking the help of transfinite numbers and concepts that are beyond my grasp. Perhaps one day I'll write a proper goodbye to him that is able to get across how important he was, but right now it just hurts too much.
I'll never forget you, my sweet bear. Thank you for sharing my little corner of the world.
