Saturday, October 3, 2015
He was with me in that rough period when my friends and I were all trying to figure out who we were so we were awful to each other. He was there when those friendships fell apart and came back together.
He was with me when my husband and I thought it wasn't going to work out, so I ran halfway across the country with my best friend to live in New York City for a year. Then, despite being a Norwegian Forest Cat, he braved the crazy heat of a Miami summer when NYC didn't work out.
He came with me, back to Tulsa, and braved an ill-fated roommate situation until my husband, the whole reason Cloud ever came into my life, and I decided to get back together.
He loved me when I worked three shitty jobs at the same time. He slept under the covers and wanted to be cuddled like a teddy bear, even when I was having stupid nightmares about waiting tables. He slept on my belly and purred when I was pregnant.
When Leia couldn't sleep, he'd snuggle up to her and purr until she calmed down. He never got angry when she tried to pick him up or scrunched up his ears. He sought her out, even when she used him as a pillow.
He was found in a gutter with his mom and the rest of the litter dead. They thought he wouldn't make it and said we should pick a different kitten. I didn't. I knew he was my cat. I named him Cloud, as in Strife of Final Fantasy 7 because I couldn't get enough of that game. And because he looked like a tiny storm cloud. He was just this little ball of fluff that could fit in the palm of my hand. The Nein came later, as he grew into an obnoxious kitten that needed to be told "no" all the time.
He would have been eighteen in forty-two days.
And the sun set and rose and set again. Nothing pauses for a dead cat.