Mademoiselle Inga You were so bitty when I first brought you and your brother home. So dainty and darling. So agreeable, good-natured and gooey sweet. Your melodious meow still rings in my memory - how happy and chirpy you were all the time. And how happy you made Mommy. You gave so much for a runty runt and required only the milk from my sugary cereal. You were my Best girl, my Companion, and my Honeybunch. It hurts so much to no more see you prance about, to no more hear you shrill with delight (with that famous French accent of yours), to no more feel you tap me on the shoulder like a little lady who now to groom my scruffy (much in need of grooming) hair? Remember when you got caught in the ceiling? Remember when you set my apartment on fire then hid in The couch so not even the firemen could find you? Remember hiding all my friends cigarettes (you never could give up smoking, could you)? Remember your crazy nights in Gramacy Park? Remember moving to Boston? Remember when Daddy came into our lives, feel in love with us both and tickled us both pink. We were such lucky girls. And you had some wild times, my mademoiselle, for an indoor cat. I am glad we were both here when you died. How scared we both were - Daddy especially because he saw it all - You were fine then you fell off the couch, yowled your last French lament, gazed up at Daddy and it was over. But we didnt know it then and Daddy cried for me to get out of the shower. Im sorry I didnt think it was serious until Daddy sounded really scared - then I jumped out with conditioner in my hair and saw you lying there. Limp. I froze; Im sorry. Daddy was so good. He was calling 911 - He was trying to revive you - He was yelling at Mommy (not to be mean - just to help) - yelling at Mommy to find her shoes and her socks and find your cat carrier and start the car so we could get you to the hospital. And we tried. But then I knew, before Daddy did, that it was too late. I saw your sweet face in the rearview mirror, eyes open, but not seeing me. I saw you lying there in a large gift box with a soft blanket around you (Mommy never found your carrier but we tried to make you comfortable). I was crying so hard the streets were a blur behind my tears. Then we heard the news. We both knew then but it was hard to hear the doctor say, Sorry. It was so hard to touch you and feel you cold and still. You were only Nine You will always be my snooky, my buttercup baby, and my tiny tootsie roll. I will not forget you and I shall never be able to adequately express my gratitude. Merci beau coup, mon chri Au revoir, mon ami.