"Sadly continuing my “Farewell…†series. This one is for Cleo, the departed feline font of my remaining three cats. She came to us a year old and unspayed from a coworker of Jenni’s. The coworker had a kid that wasn't terribly gentle with her which resulted in the second meanest cat I’ve had the pleasure to know. Appropriate I guess as she was apparently named after Queen Latifah’s character from “Set It Offâ€.
She would attack folks every once in a while and draw blood or cause a guest to seek shelter behind a bathroom door. Around us though she was peach. It’s a shitty thing to admit, but I think knowing that my wife and I were the only mammals she seemed to trust made me love her more. She settled down a bit around 12 or 13 years and we seemed to have to warn folks about her less.
She got sick shortly after her 18th birthday. We tried some treatments, but it wasn’t to be. She took a turn one morning while I was away. I got a choked call from my wife and hurried to the vet. We heard the black wings approaching and called for the shot. Cleo was already asleep on my lap in a blanket and then she went to sleep forever." -- Rob Jones
