Two years ago, I took Lucy to the vet over concerns that she had been losing weight. She got a clean bill of health and all was well. She was a healthy, happy 16 year old cat.

One year ago, I was still in shock over a devastating visit to the same vet where I was told that Lucy was severely jaundiced and probably not going to live much longer than a few days or a few weeks. I watched helplessly as she was wasting away before my very eyes. It turns out that she lived another 6 days after her diagnosis.

Today, I visited the spot of earth where she is buried. It didn’t make me cry, but it made me a little sad. As much as I love and cherish my new cat Peanut, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of Lucy and miss her. There isn’t a day where my heart doesn’t ache a little.

Sometimes, I wonder if I missed something. Maybe if I’d paid a little more attention I might have caught something that could have saved her or at least given her more time.

Tonight, I’m choosing to count my blessings and be thankful for the 17 wonderful years that made saying goodbye so very hard. She might not have been the perfect cat — she did have her eccentricities and a bit of a temper– but she was the perfect cat for me when I needed her.

Now she lives on in my Facebook and Instagram posts, my photos, and most of all, in my memories. There are still stories, most of them happy and a few of them hilarious, that I keep for whenever I start to forget. I will pass on the love she gave me to Peanut, then the next cat (or dog) and so on. Hopefully, the legacy will live on for as long as I live.