You didn’t know her, but…
Once there was a little cat who stole things from me and would later present them to me as gifts.
She kept a pile of feathers under my bed.
She quickly tired of chasing things, preferring to watch TV.
Kittens annoyed her. Thunderstorms terrified her.
One time, my mother called her fat. She never spoke to my mother again.
Hugging her was like squeezing a quivering cloud.
I picture her now in a world abundant with cheese, no thunder, warm and bright, where she has her own house and servants.
I didn’t get to see Sophie very often, but I heard about her. I know you loved her and she loved you, too. You made a difference in each other’s lives, and I love the way you can describe her preferences. Cats make the best friends.