We said goodbye to a dear companion, family member, and my first pet this afternoon. Ravyn became a part of our family in 2004, mere months after Jen and I started living together. He, along with his sister Willow, were a mainstay through countless changes: changes in home, changes in work, changes in life. That he lived 20 years in the first place is a blessing and a testament to his personality and his resilience. Until a few weeks ago, he was rocketing towards his 21st birthday in May.
Ravyn was a cat who knew what he wanted to a fault. Every time we got up to go to the fridge, within the blink of an eye he’d be at our feet. We joked he was out to get us and we became masters of not tripping over him. We were trained to eat things, like dairy, well out of his purview or while they were having their meals. He’d constantly assert himself over the other cats, until he suffered an eye injury at the paws of Eris. I’d like to think that’s when he mellowed out a bit and shifted his demanding nature to a more low-key version. In his later years he added cuddles and company, tied with his love for food, to the top of his priority list. When he was seeking attention his favorite version was one where he could place half of his body on Jen, and half on mine. When he entered my office, I knew it was nap time. When he was hurt or not feeling well, he’d seek comfort and coddling. This held all the way through our final moments with him.
Twenty years encompasses a lot of memories. More than I can remember as I write this. He’s been with us for half my life and more than half of Jen’s. He’s managed to put up with us, to stay strong for us, to fight for us, and to comfort us for that long. My hope is that he felt loved, comforted, and safe. I am going to miss him, as I’ve missed his sister Willow and brother Chocolate, forever.
I love you Ravyn.
Twenty years was not enough.