I’m not sure how much I actually saw Molly before I moved in. Memories of her darting out of the room as I entered are about it. I still don’t remember seeing her much even after I moved in.
She began to come out more after Electra (the other cat) died, but she was still very hesitant to remain in any room I entered.
Slowly that changed. She would stay in the room. She would allow me to pet her.
And one day, when I was reading in the front room, she gently scratched at my arm.
“Pet me.”
I did.
This became a regular thing.
One day she actually climbed into my lap.
“Pet me”
I did.
After a while she climbed down. She never climbed into my lap again.
Often when I was working in the middle room she would gently scratch at my arm.
“Pet me”
I did.
She would almost always collapse on her side but would always curl away if I tried to rub her tummy.
Sometimes when I was in the media room she would creep in, climb up on the table on the right of the couch, and look at me. Once or twice she walked onto the couch.
She wouldn’t sit.
She’d just stand there for a bit then jump down and quietly leave the room.
And then came the day that she got sick. We had a few days of worry and hurt. Then we knew we’d have to say good bye.
We said good bye to her late on a Tuesday night.
I held her for the last time. I petted her for the last time. I looked into her beautiful green eyes for the last time.
“Remember me”
I will.
