I can't remember a time when Kitten was not in my life, because she was born before me. I can remember even from an early age her sitting on top of the bird cage or on top of the fish tank. She would sleep on my pillow or stomach at night even though she was my sisters cat and once when I was sick she knew she couldn't sleep on my stomach so she slept beside my pillow. She didn't have to be told when I was sad just her being there made it better. As I grew up, she was still a constant in my life, as I went through so many things I knew I could confide completely in her. But she got sick, and I no longer needed her as much as she needed me. I knew the best thing was to let her go, to take her pain away because she was such a stubborn loving cat, she wouldn't leave herself no matter how sick or unhappy she was. I didn't know how much I would miss her, but I did and her death hurt me in ways I can't describe. Over the next two or three years, I got closer to my other animals. In particular, Trixie Mae, who my sister had gotten when I was five. So again, I don't exactly remember a time before, she just always was. But again, as she was once so strong she got sick. Unlike Kitten she didn't suffer long because she was a strong girl and after a few weeks of being ill she ended up dying in my arms. I can't get her face out of my mind, not the fun loving face but the hard dead one where I can't find recognition in her eyes. I feel better knowing I got to re-due the mistakes I made with Kitten, to right the wrongs. I feel at peace with the past and what the future may bring, but so much is now hidden in the love of two cats.