Something I have to say.

December 7, 2012.
Tonight I lost a very dear friend.
She was almost 16 years old. And that's pretty old for a cat.
Spring 1997. I was five years old when this story began. My mom and I were out on a walk with my baby brother.
We lived in an area that was pretty friendly, but there were some guaranteed weirdos mixed in there.
One of those weirdos was standing out in his yard.
You look like 'cat people', he said.
MOM! We ARE cat people!
She tried to shut me up but it was too late. Creepy beer-gut smoker man had heard.
He had some kittens he was looking to give away.
So, of course, mom went with the 'I have to talk to my husband' excuse.
Well, I held her to that.
I begged for at least a half an hour (that's like FOREVER when you're five), and dad finally gave in.
So we went to the strange man's house and picked out the newest addition to the Mortensen clan.
Dad liked her because she had four white feet.
I insisted that she be named Katie. It only made sense to a five year old why Katie was obviously the only thing to name a cat. Duh, parents. Katie the Kat.
I got better at spelling later.
Dad wanted to name her Scarlett but I was whiny enough that I got what I wanted.
And so it came to pass that Katie Scarlett Mortensen joined the family.
Katie was beautiful, and a little weird. She had a very special bond with my youngest brother, and even though he was born 2 years after we got her, I think she loved him the very most.
We had nearly 16 wonderful years with her. And she really was family.
I'll miss you, Turkey. You are my sweet girl and my first baby. I'm sorry Max squeaked at you so much. I love you for hiding under my bed every morning when we were both younger, waiting to attack my feet the moment they hit the floor. I love you forever and ever, baby girl.