Daphne's Eulogy

When you begin a eulogy you're supposed to start with when you first met the one you are eulogizing. Well, I can remember when I first met Daphne. She was still a kitten, although not very small. I went with my mother to the Humane Society to pick someone out to be a companion for the cats we already had, Sophie (who passed away in 2004) and Charlie (still living). Calico cats have always been a favorite for me and my mother. And so naturally, little Daphne stood out to us. She had kind eyes, if not on the ecclectic side. One of her eyes was outlined in black, which made her look Egyptian. She had a sweet pale pink nose. And she could not meow. My mother thinks that Daphne learned to speak when she came to our home. Although, her meows sounded more like squeaks. Because of this and other assumed setbacks, my family believed that Daphne was disabled. My father and brother would sometimes poke fun at her for staring at walls for long periods of time or just plain acting dumb. But I stood by the belief that Daphne fooled us all. That she was smarter than she let on.

Daphne loved shower water. She would wait for my mother to vacate the shower stall, and jump in right when the door opened, yelling at her for taking so long all the while. She rarely drank any other kind of water.

Daphne loved Christmas. Each year when my family set up the Christmas tree in the livingroon, Daphne found an open space under it to rest, even when presents started to pile up under it.

Daphne was a very affectionate cat. Which is saying a lot for cats. Daphne slept on my bed with me a lot over the years, and I loved petting her furry white belly.

I'll miss you, little Deedee. I bet you're in kitty heaven rolling around in garden dirt in the bright sunshine, just like you did when you were with us.