Anna September 7, 2000 - January 27, 2019

Best cat I've ever had.

End of obituary.

The best cat I've ever had deserves a little more, though. A lot more, to be honest, but a few words are all I have to give now.

Anna was born under my bed in a studio apartment to a dangerously bipolar mother. She and her three brothers and one sister lived there with me and Emily until we decided who should live where. Anna was the smallest. Max was the biggest. Pinto was the smartest. Much later we learned that Elvis was the sickest. Mariah, well, she got to be sort of normal...for a cat who lived all her life with her mom.

I named her Anna because I had Emily and when I adopted a cat I thought I should try to be a grown up and have a theme to my pets. I went with the Brontes and named that cat Charlotte. So when the initial plan was to keep Charlotte with me I chose one of the girls from the litter and named her Anna to round out my trio.

Charlotte was better suited to country living so one of the boys stayed with us and Anna wound up paired for life with a brother whose physical illnesses contributed to mental illnesses that made him unpredictable and fearful and not exactly dangerous but never truly calm. That should have been the first tip off that she was tough.

The story I always tell about her is probably the only story anyone needs to know.

My friend, Pony Express, got a job on a dance company tour when the kittens were around 2 years old. She had adopted Max (big) and Pinto (smart). We decided that with her gone for 4 months the cats should come and live with me. They'd lived together as babies and again for a few months at her home when I was between apartments so we were confident that it would work out. My one misgiving was that Anna was small and quiet and reserved. I worried that she'd be pushed around by the three boys but it was the best solution we had so on we forged.

As a woman I realize that I essentially underestimated Anna's strength and skill in much the same way people have underestimated mine for much of my life.

One morning not long after we'd integrated the feline households I was getting ready for work and I was in the bathroom. I suddenly heard a tremendous banging. It was staccato and rhythmic and so fucking loud! At first I stopped to listen because it had to be coming from outside my apartment, but where?

BANGBANG BANGBANG BANGBANGBANG!

BANGBANG BANGBANG BANGBANGBANG!

It was coming from inside the apartment.

I rushed into the living room expecting to see Anna being terrorized by one or more of the others and poor Emily looking on helplessly.

As I emerged from the hall I saw it:

BANGBANG BANGBANG BANGBANGBANG!

I had a trunk under my living room window, a makeshift window seat. On the trunk, back to the window, hunkered down protectively was Pinto. Pinto was the kind of smart that makes you think about evolution. He picked items up and examined them. He controlled Max's behavior and movements. He stole things from humans. His brothers were justifiably terrified of him.

Anna was on her back legs in front of the trunk. She was using one front paw to smack the trunk with all her might. The trunk, mind you, not Pinto. She was hitting the trunk about a quarter inch in front of Pinto and every time he moved back she advanced just enough to do it again. Always advancing, never touching, she backed him across the trunk, onto the window sill and into a corner. Then she waited a moment in stillness and, in a move reminiscent of her mother's most dangerous moments, walked slowly away.

I went back to the bathroom and got ready for work.

I never worried about her with the boys again.

Later I believe she was the first to understand that Emily was having seizures. She may have been the only one to witness them. Her behavior changed toward Emily, she stayed closer, not for comfort probably but to monitor an increasingly unpredictable situation.

She endured endless veterinary indignities when I couldn't be sure if it was Elvis or her who was ailing.

She nearly killed at least 3 computer trackpads with her drooling. She nearly licked me and Pony Express bald. She loved to knead her paws but only on bare flesh, the moment you protected yourself with cloth it was no fun anymore.

On Sunday night she fought the sedation just barely at the moment the full dose went through the needle. After the next shot her breathing, which had been labored, stopped almost immediately but her heart kept beating for several minutes while I pet her.

She died as she lived, fucking badass.

Best cat I've ever had.