She would sleep with me every night, usually under the covers between my knees. Whenever I would be brushing my hair in the bathroom, she would get on the counter and leap from the counter into my arms, put her arms around my neck, and start purring and rubbing on me. Whenever I would pick her up, she would wrap those sweet paws around my neck and hug me. She was my sweet baby.
The funny thing was, she wasn’t very sweet to anyone else. She bit other people when they would try to pet her (I always called them “love bites”), and she didn’t like to cuddle with anyone else. My mom always (and still does) referred to her as the “spotted witch,” if that gives you any indication as to how most everyone else felt about her. I didn’t care though. She was mine, and I was hers.
Phoebe crossed over the Rainbow Bridge five years ago. She was eleven. It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, and I was home for the summer but was an hour away visiting my dad. I got a call from my mom telling me that I needed to come home right away because Phoebe was really sick and she was taking her to the vet. I got in my car immediately and headed home, but I didn’t make it in time. She was gone before I got there. She had gone into kidney failure.
Losing Phoebe was unexpected and devastating, but I am so happy that I had the time with her that I had. Not a day goes by that I am not reminded of her in some way. I have little pieces of her around me that keep her memory alive.
Here are a few more of my favorite Phoebe photos. Unfortunately I don’t have many because I didn’t have a camera phone or fancy camera back then, but the few that I do have are great.