R.I.P., Molly

Molly the Cat came to live with me two years ago, after spending most of her life on my parent's Ohio farm. She was a great farm cat, catching mice, avoiding being eaten by hawks, and making a cozy home in the shop. My parents named her Molydenum, but called her Moly for short.

Her retirement home, aka my house, was a place she loved even more. She happily slept in a bed directly under a heater vent, and won over even my non-cat-loving roommates. She mellowed in her old age, which made children love her. The could pick her up, carry her around, and basically pet her forever, and she reveled in it. In fact, she has a fan club spanning the globe, and was not infrequently the subject of fan mail portraits colored in markers.

She loved all people, was afraid of nothing except hawks, and hated all dogs with a passion. She filled a cat-shaped hole in my life, but she was in her late teens and I knew her time was coming to and end.

On Sunday night I let her out for a quick tour of the backyard, but she found a hole in the fence and never came back. I very much suspect that she curled up in a cozy place under a neighbor's shed and never woke up. She had a good life, and she will be missed.