Remembering Purrcilla

Dear Diary,

Purrcilla showed up on my doorstep in 1996, just a year after I bought my house here in Maine. She was a tiny little kitten, probably dropped off by heartless people who didn't want her. She was barely 8 weeks old but she had such a loud purring sound that I named her "Purrcilla".

Purrcilla was a relentless mouser, a good thing to be in an old farmhouse. She, however, did not have a "warm and fuzzy" personality. She tolerated only me and then only on her terms. But I loved her and she made countless trips back and forth from Maine to Massachusetts until I retired in June of 2010. Her retirement only lasted four months and she passed away this week 4 years ago.

I have this photograph of her next to my writing chair. It reminds me that everyone in your life may not be "easy" but loving them is still a good thing to do. My new cat, Emerson, is very easy...eminently loveable...but Purrcilla will always own a small piece of my heart. With minor alterations, I used the poem penned by Lord Byron for his beloved dog as Purrcilla's epitaph as well.

I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things, to me, are expressions of love.

-James Herriot