Today is Sophie's birthday. She would be 21 years old if she was still here.
The past few years on her birthday, I would wonder if she would be around for the next one since she was getting up there in years. My previous cat, Wilma, made it to 18 years old, so that was the benchmark. Once Sophie got near that and surpassed it, I kind of felt like she was on borrowed time. But up until April I felt like she felt good, she was herself, and she had a good quality of life. Mid-April is when she really started to go downhill in a way that made it clear she'd reached the end of the road.
I realize I was lucky to have Sophie as long as I did. A 20 year old cat is equivalent to a person in their mid to late nineties. But I still miss her terribly. It still feels weird that she's not here. I wish I was writing yet another blog post marveling at her longevity. But today, 19 weeks to the day after she died, it's a sad birthday.
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