Memories Of April

It was one year today that the Sunsett family lost a dear cat that lived a long happy life. She was found in April, named April, lived 17 long years as April, and died last April.

Time passes so fast, sometimes. There are days when we still expect to see her in her favorite corner of the garage, in the house somewhere near a window with a sunbeam coming through it, or out on the patio on a warm day (like it was when this picture was shot).

The sad thing about having pets is they don't live long enough (the same is true for us too). But during the time they are here, they ask for so very little and give so much.

They greet you at the door, when you come home in their own special ways. A dog barks and jumps all over you as if to say: Oh boy oh boy, I thought you'd never get back, oh boy oh boy. A cat comes out slickly, perches itself in a sitting pose for a second, then meows as if to say: Where the hell have you been? Don't you know I have been waiting for you all day? I have been with these dumbass dogs all day and this is the thanks I get? You could have at least called. Then he/she comes up to you, purrs, and demands you provide dinner for his/her inconvenience, all in the same motion.

When a dog hears something late at night outside your house, it barks as if to say: Someone's here, someone's here. Violation, violation. Alert, alert. Status code zero, repeat, status code zero. All sentries to the perimeter, all sentries to the perimeter. A cat sneaks up to you quietly, comes up to your face, and looks at you as if to whisper to you: Psst. Someone's here. Follow me to the red zone, we'll strike on my command. Be careful.

But no matter which kind of animal one prefers (I have had both), they are both less trouble than some people. They only ask to be fed, pottied, and to be wherever you are and contented to lay down peacefully in the same room with you (while doing whatever it is you are doing). They don't hit you up for money, the latest video game, or gas money. They don't come home late (mainly because they do not leave unless you let them go with you). They are always there, on call, and willing to change rooms with you, however often you wish to change them.

April was that cat. We still miss her, probably always will. But we are thankful for the time she was ours. And although we must now focus our attention on a geriatric Springer Spaniel (that lies motionless for hours at a time) and a neurotic Dachsund-Chihuahua mix (that thinks everything that hits the floor belongs to her), we still have time (every now and then) to imagine that we still see her lazing around, being an old contented cat that had it made.

Today is one of those days.