A year ago we said goodbye to our beloved Smokey. I doubt a day has gone by I haven’t missed my cantankerous old man, the best furry friend I could’ve asked for.
He definitely wasn’t what I wanted when he first came to us. He lived behind our toilet for almost a year, and it took him another year to be comfortable just being around people.
But one weekend he jumped up on my lap, curled up, and purred himself to sleep. It was all over then.
He helped grade my papers, judged my cooking, kept bugs out of the house, and ruled benevolently as King of All He Surveys from the Sunshine Spot on the Sofa.
We saw two World Cups and went through dozen or so hurricanes. When we moved, he immediately found new windows.
In the end, I’m fairly certain he saved us, passing just days before we evacuated due to Hurricane Florence. I’m also convinced he still visits from time to time, just to check in on us.
And now, a year later, sitting in the dark as Hurricane Dorian slowly leaves after battering us with bands and blowing winds for nearly a day, I wish I could hold him in my lap once more, scratch his head, and let him know just how much he helped me be a better person.
So here’s to you, Smokey. You’re gone from us for now, but most definitely not forgotten.
Running In My Head 