I miss my Olive. She was a good girl.
Olive, I tried to give you as good a life as possible. Not a life of luxury and apathy, but one of interest and inclusion. The goal was that you would not become one of those fat, uninterested cats that everyone ignores in the back of their houses, with kitty-alzheimer's. I did what I could to keep your life interesting, in the limits of our home and lifestyle and what your Mom and I could stand to do.
We put up with your endless chatter and energy, your jealousy and your very low sense of humor, your gastric problems. We played with you when we didn't feel like it, protected you from psycho-cat as much as we could, and I took you as far afield as you would go.
It was so worth it; we got back endless playfulness, intelligence and love. And even though you were afraid of psycho-cat, you still loved her; she was like an alcoholic mother, dangerous and annoying, but still Mom.
I think we did what we could for you, and you had a good life. This takes some of the sharpness out of the pain of losing you, but we still miss you.