I lost a friend today.

I guess it was last night, but still. This was Ninja. I know, not the most original name for a black cat but it was the name she came with and so I kept it. I've had cats all my life, and I've loved each and every one of them but Ninja was different. Ninja is the one cat who I can say without any doubt that she loved me as much as I loved her, if not more so.

When I got her, she had been owned by one of my ex's neighbors who on going to rehab had just let her outside to survive on her own from that point. One of the other neighbors had taken her in, but couldn't keep her and so I gladly offered to give her a home. I remember having to use gardening gloves to grab her and get her into a carrier. She complained and hissed, but never once tried to bite or swat. For the next month or two, she existed in my apartment. I free-fed dry food and I'd leave wet food out overnight, which would be gone by morning, and the litterbox would always have presents but otherwise I'd never see her. I'd definitely hear her if I listened close late at night after I turned all the lights off. Then, one day this happened. I was on my computer, and suddenly saw this shadow enter the room. She sat there for a bit, just watching, then left and I let her be. This happened for a few nights, until suddenly she came closer and jumped up into my lap. The purring was cacophonous as I pet her. From that point on, she was always attached to me.

She stopped sleeping in the living room, and chose my bed as a better alternative. I remember one night, I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom but didn't turn on any of the lights since I could usually see well enough. What I didn't expect was when I turned on the faucet afterwards to wash my hands, to have this black shape rush at me in alarm. She learned that night that the sink is not a good bed, and I nearly shat myself in terror.

She always wanted attention, and she'd roll around on the floor begging for it until I relented.

It was funny all of the different ways she'd twist herself up while sleeping, I have no idea how she was ever comfortable like that.

One of her absolute favorite things was when I'd pick her up, flip her over, and rock her like a baby. That or sit with her with her back against my knees in my lap. She just always wanted to be touching me and around me. Something she'd do every time I flipped her is gently reach out and put a paw on my nose while staring up at me.

She was always kind of a single cat. When my ex and I moved in together, her cats generally didn't get along with Ninja. They weren't entirely aggressive, just didn't tolerate sharing the same space. But once or twice we thought maybe they were making progress. It never lasted though, and she always remained a singular kind of cat. She also generally didn't like other people. My ex she was okay with, but anyone else she'd hiss, swat, or hide.

This was an even rarer occasion. The grey cat is actually her daughter, but they especially didn't get along. She'd had multiple litters before she was spayed, all before I'd gotten her.

It didn't matter what I was doing, she always wanted to be a part of it. On my computer? She'd nap right next to me and make sure she was touching me in some way. Going to the kitchen? Had to come along to investigate. A few years ago, I'd noticed she had started to lose weight despite eating more. I remember driving home from work one day and suddenly it had clicked that she was probably hyperthyroid. Sure enough brought her with me to work the next day, ran some bloodwork, and was confirmed. She was always difficult to get her meds into. Pillpockets would usually work, but sometimes I'd find the pill hours later after she'd spit it out.

I remember there was a time a few years ago where my ex and I went on vacation for a week. The clinic I worked at back then had cat and dog boarding, and so we boarded the cats there while we were gone. I'd gotten updates from the kennel about how she wasn't touching her food as much, and I'd give a suggestion of something else to try. I remember the night we got back though, I had keys to the clinic and so went to pick the cats up after hours and when I got to her kennel I saw only a husk of her bright, normal self. This wasn't neglect from the kennel, they'd tried everything they could. This wasn't a cat who was sick. This was a cat who was depressed, heartbroken, and had given up on life. It took her a minute to recognize me there, but when she did all of that life and energy suddenly came flooding back. I'd said she wouldn't leave my side before, but for at least a month after this it was even more-so.

Over time, her age and her hyperthyroidism caught up with her. She began to lose weight gradually. Her bloodwork always came back good, and she always had that drive and energy to get around where she needed to go. But she definitely began sleeping more, and her senses seemed more dulled. This is the last picture I have of her, from about 2 weeks ago. She was always difficult to photograph, because the moment any attention was on her she rushed over and wanted pets. I estimate she was about 16-18 years old, given she was already older when I got her 10 years ago. I'd half-joked for awhile that with how hard she slept, I was expecting any day to come home and find that she'd passed while I was at work. But each day, when I'd open the door to my bedroom I was always greeted with her voice as she woke up in excitement.

Yesterday though, I'd noticed she was a bit quieter and sleeping more. She'd only touched some of her food the night prior, but she did that sometimes where one night she wouldn't touch as much and then the next she'd be right back at it so I wasn't concerned. I'd gone out for an evening hike, and when I'd gotten home I saw she was sleeping near her litterbox. She roused, but really didn't have a lot of energy. I tried offering her a churu lick, and she got up in excitement for that, but then maybe gave it only a lick or two before going back over and flopping down. After that, her energy was spent. And I knew just looking at her that it was finally time. I brought her into work, and went through the motions I've done countless times from the other side of the table. As I spent time with her beforehand, just holding her I could see that she barely had any energy left. As the doctor pushed the drugs, she jerked a bit which is a normal response, but then she gently reached out and placed her pawn on my nose. Like she'd done so many times before. But this time was different, as it was the last time we would ever hold each other. I spent a bit afterwards, apologizing and telling her so many things I'd told her before about how beautiful and perfect she was. I've been through it so many times before, but something about this time was just so incredibly different. People talk about being "pet parents" and will say all sorts of cutesy things, but Ninja was in so many ways my adopted daughter.

I think I've broken down crying at least 7 times writing all of this, and it's difficult to find myself still doing all the things I used to like opening my door slowly expecting her to be right on the other side, or expecting to look behind me and see her sleeping on her mat. It's going to be a lot of adjustment, and it's going to be difficult, but all I can do is move forward and remember the most perfect cat I've ever had.