If you recently lost a cat, all of us who have also ever lost a cat, are holding a special place in our heart for you. We all know the pain. Here one day, gone the next. There is no way to prepare. The house will feel empty. You will find yourself looking in that chair, on that rug, in the bed – all the places she used to nap. You’ll think you see or hear her, or wonder where she is, only to remember a split second later that she is gone, and you feel the grief surge all over again. You’ll find yourself wondering if there was something you did, something you didn’t do, something you should have noticed sooner, something you could have tried. You may find you are keeping your feelings bottled up, because after all she was just a cat, and no one will understand, unless they have also loved a cat as much as you did. You will cry every time you see one of her toys, her bed, a can of her favorite food still in the cupboard. Days later you may finally regain a little composure, only to stumble across a picture of her on your phone and then break down all over again, at work. In time, the pain will dissipate but you will never forget. And you never should. Every little purr baby will leave an indelible mark on your heart. This is by design. Cats are God’s creatures, and their companionship is also by design. Them for us, and us for them. They are here to remind us of God's infinite Love. A perfect relationship of unconditional affection, comic relief, comfort, and healing - even down to the frequency of their purr, which has healing resonance. Let me assuage your grief my dear cat loving friend, you are not alone. This page is dedicated to anyone that needs to heal and would feel comforted by sharing the memory of their beloved kitty. Feel free to click the button below to submit your cat's photo and bio to be featured on this memorial page.

All Cats Go To Heaven

My spirit is free, but I'll never depart,
as long as you keep me alive in your heart.
I'll never wander out of your sight.
I'm the brightest star on the clearest night.

Mochi

Four years ago on a chilly February afternoon, we were sitting on a park bridge where we often took our lunch. We suddenly heard a panicked meowing, in a nearby majestic poplar tree. Trapped there was a little black and white kitten, cold and hungry, and unable to get down. I assume someone had dumped her there, as she was tame. Perhaps she climbed up the tree to stay safe, but then got stuck. We proceeded to get her down and then shared our lunch with her. We were eating green tea mochi. She nearly took my finger off in her desperation to fill her empty belly. We then of course took her home, where she proceeded to gobble two bowls of cat food, then lay on her back and make air biscuits ~ so happy and relieved to be warm and fed. And there she stayed, for the next four years, hanging out in the kitchen. Although she had free reign of the house, she preferred not to stray far from the food bowl. She never forgot what it felt like to be starving. Her days were spent sleeping in the kitchen chair, or sprawled out on the orange shag area rug under the table, or sitting in the kitchen window watching birds. She followed me around when I cooked, chirping her squeaky little meow to get my attention. Her presence in the kitchen was what made the room feel cheerful and cozy. For all anyone could tell, she was happy and healthy, round and squishy like the desert she was named after. Then one day I arrived home from work, to discover Heaven had unexpectedly called her home. At first I thought she was napping, as usual. But upon closer inspection she clearly was not. Her passing was a shock, and still remains a mystery. Heaven got a new Angel Kitty that day, and I know she'll be waiting for us on that bridge, ready to take us home as we did with her. God Bless you my little Mochi. There will always be an empty spot in your kitchen chair. ~ Cynthia