It seemed like it was yesterday. The day I held him for the first time and he looked at me that was the happiest day of my life. He was so adorable. The first time he bit me I cried because I loved him so much. My dad suggested the name "Skitty" and we stuck with it. He was the best cat I've ever had. Soon after we got him we noticed he wasn't that sweet. He was kind of mean. I love mean cats so I would play with him. That's why I was always excited to get home from school. He would eat only a little bit. Then he would use the bathroom and sleep. He was really lazy. He would always be mean. He had long claws and he knew how to make them hurt. He would always jump and climb on me. But I didn't care I loved him. Once he reached his first birthday he wasn't that mean. He was more chill. He would sleep instead of attack. He got more lazy as the days went on. So we got used to it. But then one morning I woke up and he was in my floor throwing up. He was really sick. I didn't think to take him to the vet. Usually it was his food that did this to him. But it kept getting worse. It got to the point to where he wouldn't eat or use the bathroom. The next day we found out he couldn't use the bathroom at all even when he tried to. He was whining on pain. So we finally got to the vet. We sat patiently and waited. They called us back with Skitty. They said Skitty had a blockage and needed a surgery. But it costed $400. So we couldn't do it. But for $40 he gave Skitty some shots to try and clear the blockage. But of course the shots didn't work. The next day came.. He was laying in my floor not moving. He was so weak he couldn't move. So I picked him up and held him. Later that night it was time for dinner. I didn't eat because Skitty was suffering so bad I didn't want to eat in front of him. So instead I laid down with him. We all went outside because we were going to have him put to sleep. Everyone was outside while I was inside. Getting ready to go and crying. But all o a sudden my cousin ran in and told me my cat was having a seizure. Then I ran outside screaming and crying. I was holding him while he was gasping for his last breath of air. He whined one last time. I reached up with tears in my eyes and slowly touched his head and whispered "let go" as I said it he was gone. I cried for like a week. And so I bought a tombstone and painted it for his little grave. I painted it red and blue and white because it stood for freedom. Which he had. He wasn't suffering anymore. Today, would've been his birthday. I wish he was still here. I miss you Skitty!! I love you!
