dear Cassiopeia

After many great years together, my cat Cassiopeia passed away on Christmas morning. She will be sorely missed.
She was part of a feral group that lived under my grandparents' house. I was the first person to ever touch her, and the little 1.2-pound firecracker that I snatched up had the spirit to hiss at me the first time we got a good look at each other. I have always considered her a link to my paternal grandparents, both of whom have been deceased for several years.
She was an adorable little kitten (aren't they all?). She used to "catch" the water droplets from the leaky bathtub faucet and then look at her paws, puzzled by the disappearance of the droplet that she caught. During endless hours working on heat and mass transport homework, she would drive me crazy by chasing my pen and then melt my heart when she feel asleep perched on my shoulder.
She was waiting in the window for me when I came home from my first date with Charlie, and she was also waiting for me 6 years later when he moved out. She was on the plane with me the night that I sadly left Los Angeles for an unknown new home in Florida.
Like most cats, she thought her chief job was to be my "anti-helper". She was most concerned with getting my attention when I was trying to do something else - such as grade exams or work a jigsaw puzzle (note that she's covering up the portion of the puzzle that isn't finished yet). She was so nosy that I considered it not just a personality trait, but an affliction. Grouchy and bossy to boot, she would frequently blockade key intersections in the house and prevent the dog or other cat (both of whom were bigger and stronger than her) from passing. But then at bedtime she could always be counted on to come curl up next to me and purr.
Her asthma was diagnosed very early on, and over the years has evolved from an occasional nuisance to a daily concern. Florida was hard on her. The night before I was supposed to bring Sheba home from the pet rescue, Cassie had a particularly terrifying asthma attack. The vet at the clinic warned that she probably wasn't going to make it - but she did. And once she recovered I DID bring Sheba home and I don't think I was ever forgiven for that. Thanks to excellent veterinary care, we had nearly three more years together after that close call.
Sadly, the asthma got her in the end. I keep thinking of what I could have done differently while I was out of town - increased the dosage on her meds, left instructions for the pet sitter to keep the humidifier running, asked the pet sitter to come twice a day instead of once a day - but that doesn't change anything now. I just wish that I could have held her and stroked her soft chin one last time. It's way too quiet around here without her.