Gigi

She was a small kitty--one of those tiny felines who never grows much beyond the age of six months. But as is so often the case when one considers small packages, this one contained more heart and warmth than cats five times her size.

Whenever Dee invited her friends over to her spacious apartment, Gigi would come out several times to "work the room," visiting each person and offering her head to be petted. Many times, she would jump up into one of the visitor's laps and spend a few minutes there, talk loudly and frequently (as calicos of every size often do) and then jump down to give someone else in the room a chance.

When Gigi wasn't in the room, we'd often joke that she had run off to my place to have a wild party with my kitties, Olivia and Ms. Christopher. We imagined the three of them trashing the joint and leaving much debris in their furry wakes. (In truth, given the usual state of organization in La Casa del Terror, I doubt I'd be able to tell the difference if they had trashed the joint.)

She was an elderly girl when Dee adopted her from the shelter several years ago, but with much love and attention from her "mom," she enjoyed life despite the occasional health challenge.

This past Thanksgiving Day, though, Dee had to take Gigi to the emergency veterinary hospital, where she was told that Gigi was experiencing renal failure and heart problems. After a couple more days at her regular vet, Gigi came home, where she and Dee continued to fight the good fight with the aid of syringe-fed meds and IV fluids.

This past Friday, the fight ended. Gigi moved on over the Rainbow Bridge, where she no doubt met up with Ms. Christopher to pass the catnip hookah and share a laugh or two at all the fun and frolic they had with their human friends, left behind to mourn their passing.

That is if, in fact, cats actually laugh. I know that they smile--and bring many smiles in return.