When I was in first grade, a few days before my 7th birthday, my dad came home one evening and we were all sitting in the living room. He put his briefcase down and walked across the room to sit on the sofa. Two seconds later he asked me to get some books out of the briefcase and bring them to him. Obviously, I huffed and said, "You were JUST there! Why didn't you get them before you sat down?!" He looked at me and said, "Just do what you're told." I'm sure I got up and stomped over as angrily as I could, but as I approached, I noticed that the briefcase moved. I turned back and looked at him and she said, "Today please!" I turned back around and the bag moved again. He kind of laughed and said, "Jamie. Please get the books out of my bag." I think I probably said, "I'm not touching that thing! It's moving!!" And laughed again and again told me to just hurry up with the books. I slowly tiptoed over to the chair and peaked over the zipper of the bag, when I heard a little cry. I peaked a little further and there she was, a black and white fuzz ball with the greenest eyes I had ever seen. I scooped her up and fell instantly in love. Seeing as how she was my cat that I got for my birthday, you'd think I'd get the honor of naming her. But no. My sister and I fought over her name for hours. Being the logical six-year-old that I was, I obviously said her name should be Oreo. Hello? Black and white + oreo. My sister thought it was a terrible idea and wanted Zoey. I don't know how it was finally settled, but Zoey it was.
That was 18 years ago. In a few more months, she would've been 19 years old. It's kind of a miracle that she lived that long considering we live in the city and she was an indoor/outdoor cat. She was the best cat anyone could ask for. She'd come and go as she pleased, never had accidents in the house, would curl up in your arms on her back like a baby and place her paw on your cheek. She'd curl up under your chin at night and even went through a phase where she'd sleep on your head. And she could hold her own against our dogs. If they bothered her too much, she'd smack them and walk away, leaving them dazed and confused.
After 18 years with us, she truly was a part of the family. She was in my life longer than she wasn't. And she'll be greatly missed.
RIP Zoey. Give Chloe a kiss for me when you see her.